What If?
by KelliP
Summary: 4x17 Once Upon a Crime. "And you don't think people believe what you've written about me?" Kate rolls her eyes. "I mean, do you even realise how many people think I've slept with you?" - What if Martha had given a certain writer and detective a moment alone?
1. 4x23 Always

**A/N:** Just a little background…

Each of these are centred around a specific episode. They explore what _could_ have happened if just one little detail had of been different. I think the most obvious example I can give it 'what if... Ryan had interrupted a moment later'. ;)

These will take on a lot of different forms, though. Some obvious, some more minor. For the most part, going to try and steer clear from the millions of post-eps that have already been done, and choose something a little different wherever I can.

Started this because as much as I loved the journey on the show, I think there were many times when we just wondered what could have happened if they'd just finished their damn sentence.

Finally, feel free to send in any suggestions.

Enjoy.

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**4x23 Always**

* * *

_What if… Kate had given up her mother's case?_

* * *

"Because I love you."

Kate freezes, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat as she stares at him, shocked by his sudden confession.

He said it.

Again.

No bullet in her heart. No loss of consciousness. No piercing screams around them as people duck and scatter, fearing their lives. Just here, in the safety of her living room. Just the two of them.

"But you already know that, don't you?" Castle continues without pause, without giving his words time to sink in, panic squeezing her heart tight in her chest. "You've known for about a year."

He knows.

And she knew this, through their double-sided conversations full of subtext that they have because they're both too cowardly to admit what they really feel. But hearing him say it outright, forcing her to listen to the _hurt_ in his voice, watch as disappointment and rejection flicker across his face, is just… too much.

Kate shakes her head slowly as if in disbelief, her voice quiet as she tries to deflect from the massive mistake she's made by lying and instead throw the blame back onto him. "Are you kidding me? You're actually bringing this up right now? After you told me you just betrayed me?"

Castle sighs. "Kate, listen to me-"

"Listen to you? _Why_ should I listen to you? How am I even supposed to trust _anything_ that you say?"

"How are you-" Castle's whole body tenses, his face furious, his voice loud and angry and it's all directed at _her_. "Because of everything that we've been through together! Four years, I've been right here. For years just waiting for you to open your eyes and see that I'm right here! And I'm _more_ than a _partner_."

He takes a small breath, barely a moments pause before he continues, his voice quieter as love and hurt dance together in his eyes. "Every morning, I bring you a cup of coffee just so I can see a _smile_ on your face, because I think you're the most remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating person I've ever met. And I love you, Kate, and if that means anything to you- if you care about me _at all_- just _don't do this_."

His voice gives out as he begs her, and she stares at him through unblinking eyes, silence stretching between them as she contemplates and tries to comprehend exactly what he's saying.

"You want me to walk away from the case?" she asks in disbelief, her voice barely a whisper, choking as she continues. "_My_ case? My _mother's_ case?"

His response is instant. "Yes."

It's like a punch to her gut, because he knows how much this means to her- how long she's waited for some sort of justice- and yet he's still here, asking her to let it go, just like that.

"Castle, can you just stop and think about what you're asking of me? What you're asking me to give up? She's my _mother_, Castle," her voice chokes in her throat before giving out entirely, and she has to suck in a shaky breath to hold back the sob that's threatening to burst from her, hold herself together just a little longer. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You can still honour her, Kate. You can still make her proud. You already _have_ made her proud, because you're _extraordinary_." Her heart skips a beat and then takes of running as he smiles at her, adoration and pride all over his face. "But I also know she wouldn't want this for you. She wouldn't want you to throw your life away over this. She'd want you to keep on living. She'd want you to be happy."

Kate drops her gaze, the absolute desperation in his eyes as he pleads with her too much, conveying the magnitude of this situation. He really believes this is something that they can't win this. He really believes that if she continues, she's going to end up dead. That she'll become just another body lying on the cold steel slab in the morgue. Lying in wait for her father to identify. Lying in wait for Lanie to perform her autopsy. Lying in wait for Castle to watch as they bury her into the ground.

Her lower lip catches between her teeth as she chews fiercely, fighting with herself, torn between the man in front of her, who _loves_ her and is right here with her and wants to give her the whole world, and her mother, who she loved so dearly and misses every single day because she was robbed of her life all too early.

She doesn't-

She doesn't know.

She opens her mouth to speak, still unsure of what she's supposed to do, her voice choking with heartache. "Castle-"

He's in front of her in an instant, one hand grasping her shoulder, holding her here, the other lifting her chin, forcing her to _look_ at him. She flinches at the sudden contact, her entire body stiffening, because this is crossing every line that she's written between them, but he doesn't let her back away. Instead, she's forced to watch as a tear rolls down his cheek, falling down the small space left between them. Her heart tears, because she's _never_ seen him like this; so open and vulnerable, so _upset_, so _desperate_ for her to listen to him.

"_No_, Kate. _Please_. I can't… I can't do this anymore. I can't watch you risk your life, over and over again, over a war you're never going to win. Just- please don't do this. I- I can't. Please."

Every single emotion he's worked at hiding for the past four years, every single emotion that she's tried to ignore, comes pouring out of him as he pleads. All the hurt and betrayal, the apprehension and frustration, the adoration and absolute _love_ is all there, right on his face.

And she can't deny him any longer.

She doesn't know who breaks first, but suddenly, her lips have found his, fast and furious, his mouth hot, his tongue demanding. Against her will, her hands reach for his face, wrap around his neck, run down his back as she moulds every inch of her body to his. His fingers dig into her sides, urging her back, and he follows until she hits the wall behind her and his entire body is pressing into hers.

They stop as suddenly as they started, Castle's lips breaking from hers with a loud smack. But he doesn't move away, instead resting his forehead against hers, his breath leaving his lips and washing over hers in hot, short bursts. Hesitantly, she opens her eyes to meet his, already waiting for her.

"Tell me you don't feel this," he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her neck- any skin his lips can reach. "Tell me you don't feel what's between us. Tell me that this is worth throwing away."

She bites her lip, a tear dropping from her cheek, her heart racing in her chest because she can't.

She can't tell him that.

She doesn't want to tell him that.

She just wants him.

Slowly, Kate shakes her head, a smile breaking free across her lips. "I can't," she whispers her response, fingers delicately tracing the edges of his face as she smiles up at him freely, a heavy weight suddenly lifted from her heart. "I choose you, Castle. I choose us."

* * *

Her phone vibrates loudly against the wood of her nightstand the following morning, pulling her from her slumber. Kate twists her body awkwardly, arm stretching backwards as she attempts to reach her phone without waking the man who currently has a death grip on her as he sleeps, his hands clasped around her back like a vice.

She sighs when her fingers finally manage to clasp her phone and read the name on the caller ID.

It's Esposito.

A glance at the clock across the room tells her it's almost ten. No wonder he's ringing; she was supposed to be at the precinct hours ago. Kate bites her lip, hesitating whether to answer it, when Castle let's out a soft half-snore and nuzzles his face in her tangled hair, his breath hot against her ear. Tilting her head back, she smiles at the boyish expression on his face before switching her phone to silent.

Esposito can wait.

She's barely snuggled back down against the warmth of Castle's body when her phone flashes again, lighting up her room. Kate sighs as she regrettably slips out of Castle's arms without disturbing him. After shrugging on her robe and grabbing her phone, she eases her bedroom door shut behind her, leaving him to sleep in peace until she can return.

When she answers the phone in her usual clipped tone, Esposito's voice sounds across the line, steady and sure, as he tells her they've finally got something. She listens intently as he explains about the rental car, about the cover ID of Cole Maddox, and the GPS tracking that Eastway maintains on all its vehicles. "We tracked it to the Lower East Side," Esposito continues. "Narrowed it down to a one block radius. Beckett- this is it. We've got him."

The air leaves her lungs and her entire body freezes at the realisation.

They've got him. The man who shot her. The man hired by the same people who ordered the hit on her mother.

They've got him.

But-

She promised Castle. Promised him that she's going to let this go. Promised him that she's going to focus on living her life- _their_ life, spent together- instead of throwing it away for another thirteen years.

"Drop it," she says bluntly, surprising herself at the ease in which the order falls from her lips.

She can almost hear Esposito's eyes bulging out of his sockets before he half-shouts in disbelief. "What? What do you mean, _drop it_?"

"Forget about it, Espo. It doesn't matter."

"Beckett, how can you tell me it doesn't matter? This man put a _bullet_ in your _chest_, and then disappeared. Now we're an inch away from catching the son of a bitch, and you're telling me it doesn't matter?"

She lets out a long breath, steading herself, reminding herself that whatever the boys found doesn't matter. It's not as important as what she has right here; not worth ruining what she and Castle finally have.

"There are more important things in life, Espo," she says softly, a small, content smile on her face as her mind flitters back to the previous night spent tangled in her sheets with Castle. "But, can you do me one favour?" There's silence across the line as Esposito waits for her to finish, and Kate sneaks a glance back at her bedroom door, only to come face to face with one Richard Castle. He's leaning against her doorframe, eyes fixated on her as he studies her intently, listening to her conversation and waiting for her response.

Kate smiles at him, reaching one hand out for his, the tips of their fingers linking as they grasp onto one another. "Cover for me," she says to Esposito. "I don't think I'll be making it in today."

She clicks off the line instantly, not giving Esposito another chance to protest and risk talking her back into the case, and throws her phone in the direction of her couch. Kate presses her lips together and tilts her head, inviting Castle to verbalise the questions he's so obviously trying to restrain.

"That was Esposito?" he asks for clarification. She nods. "And he… found something?" She nods again. "But, you aren't going to pursue it? You aren't going in?"

She shakes her head, a serene expression on her face. "No. I have other things to do. More important things."

"Like… what?" he asks cautiously, a sliver of hope trickling into his voice, as if he can't really believe that she's choosing him.

"Well, first we have Alexis' graduation to attend," she says simply, stepping closer towards him. "And then…" she wraps her arms around him, peering up at him from under her lashes. "I do believe you promised me a movie night."

* * *

Kate arrives on his doorstep not long after Alexis leaves for her all-nighter, ready to ease Castle's misery and draw him out of the sulk he's surely in. She'd given them the afternoon to celebrate together- family time, she said- but he text her a half hour ago, letting her know Alexis was getting ready to leave. After giving it a little extra time to ensure she wouldn't intrude, Kate had finally grabbed her keys and was out the door without another moments pause.

When his front door swings open, she smiles at him and leans into his embrace. With her heels on, they're almost the same height, and she doesn't have to jump up onto her toes to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips.

Regrettably, they break away as she reminds herself they're still in his hallway. She doesn't particularly feel like giving his neighbours a show tonight. Instead, Kate holds up the bottle of wine she's bought, letting him take it from her with the promise of two glasses coming right up.

By the time he turns back around, she's shrugged out of her coat and thrown it over the back of his couch, revealing the black, lacy, barely-there negligee she's only wearing underneath.

His reaction is instant. His jaw drops, eyes roaming her body unashamedly, a stutter of what she thinks is supposed to be her name escaping his lips in what's barely a breath. She saunters towards him, carefully peeling the two wine glasses from his hands before he drops them. When they're safely on the counter, her fingers rake up his chest before trailing back down, slipping each button out of its hole as they go. By the time her lips are roaming across his skin, she's already stepping him back towards his bedroom, pushing him down onto his bed before climbing over him, the entire length of her body pressed against his.

She likes to lead.

All the time.

* * *

Later that night, long after they've forgone the pretence of movies and retreated to seclusion of Castle's bed, a man is spotted entering an apartment through a window off a fire escape. When the passer-by rings the police tip line with the address of the suspected break in, a call goes out to all units in the area. Two detectives, their shifts finishing late after catching another body, catch the end of the call just as they park their cruiser back outside the Twelfth Precinct. Recognising the address immediately, they hit up dispatch with a warning that this man put a bullet in the chest of one of their own and will stop at nothing to ensure his identity remains a secret.

Within a quarter of an hour, the entire block is secured, police surrounding the building and SWAT team at the ready. Minutes later, the man going under the identity of Cole Maddox is apprehended by Detectives Ryan and Esposito.

Had Kate been home, she would have met her end, as Maddox lay in wait for her return in the shadows of her apartment.

But instead, she sleeps across town, none-the-wiser as to the full force of the police currently raining down on her apartment building. And because she lies there, blissfully content and wrapped tightly in Castle's arms, he has once again (albeit, unknowingly) saved her life.

And there's no doubt he'll brag about it in the morning.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm on tumblr ( kellisworld dot tumblr dot com ) and twitter (kellis_world) if anyone is interested.


	2. 2x21 Den of Thieves

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**2x21 Den of Thieves**

* * *

_What if… Castle had told Demming that he and Beckett were in a relationship?_

* * *

Castle's heart sinks in his chest as he listens to Beckett and Demming chatting away together. He's the obvious third wheel in the room, but he doesn't want to leave. Because leaving means leaving them alone. Together. And if he wants any sort of chance with Beckett, there's no way he can just sit back and watch as Demming swoops in and scoops her from right under his nose.

It's late when Beckett finally calls it a night, wrapping up quickly and heading out before Castle even has a chance to stand. When she's gone, he lets out a long breath, relieved he doesn't have to sit here any longer and watch as the two detectives hit it off, smile at each other and exchange theory as if she's already forgotten about him. And as much as it's probably bordering on pathetic, he wants nothing more than to head home and drown out the memory of today with a good bottle of scotch.

So he's just about to grab his coat and head home when Demming speaks up, his voice hesitant and curious. "Castle, can I ask you something?" Castle pauses, eyebrows rising as he extends an invitation for Demming to continue. "You and Beckett… is there something going on?"

"Me and Beckett?"

"Yeah."

Castle opens his mouth to respond, the truth on the tip of his tongue, when the words flies out before his mind even has a chance to register what he's saying. "Uh, yeah. We're- uh, we're together."

That wipes the smile off Demming's face. The detective stiffens, obviously uncomfortable with the turn this conversation has taken. "You are?"

Castle shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant about the thought of him and Beckett _together_. "Yeah. We're just… trying to keep it quiet for now, you know? Don't want everyone to start talking. You understand, right? Won't say anything to anyone?"

The detective nods half-heartedly, eyes darting away as he moves to stand and leave. "No. Right. I get it." Demming's halfway to the door when he pauses, shuffling awkwardly on the spot as he throws Castle a look over his shoulder. "Look, you won't- don't tell Kate we talked, alright? I don't want to make it awkward. With the case, I mean."

Castle nods, holding back the scoff that rises in his throat.

Right. Like he'll tell Beckett. She'll shoot him before he even has a chance to plead not guilty.

* * *

Castle hesitates for just a second before he enters the video room the following morning, peaking in through the cracks in the blinds to see Beckett and Demming chatting as they scan through the surveillance footage. Sucking in a deep breath for courage, he knocks as he enters, trying to steady his voice as he speaks. "Hey, I brought coffee," he announces, hoping his tone is casual enough, as if he didn't tell the other man in the room that they were together.

Demming's eyes flick away as Castle enters, almost guiltily. For a fleeting moment, he panics, fearing the detective changed his mind and felt the need to apologise to Beckett for having a little chat about her last night. Maybe explain he didn't mean to make anyone uncomfortable; that he didn't mean to intrude on their relationship.

But Beckett simply spins in her chair and smiles at him, a sweet _thanks_ escaping her lips as she reaches out and takes her cup from the carry tray.

Castle lets out a long breath of relief.

Crisis averted.

"You gonna sit down, Castle, or just stand there all day?" There's a smirk on her lips, a twinkle in her eyes, as she watches him, an eyebrow raised in wait of his response. She's amused, and he feels like an idiot, his heart scrunching in his chest in embarrassment as he realises he's still staring at her.

Great start to the day.

"Uh. Right," he mutters, glancing around the room awkwardly for a moment before placing the cardboard tray on the edge of the table between Beckett and Demming. He swears it's the truth that he only means to leave it there while he pulls up a chair, but Demming must take it as a warning. The detective slides his chair back and gives Castle space to pull up in between them, his eyes still averted guiltily, as if he's done something wrong by just sitting next to the woman Castle isn't even in a relationship with.

Castle doesn't hesitate to take the spot, though. He even slides his chair a little closer to Beckett as he scoots in. No way in hell he's going to pass up a chance to sit next to Beckett, lean in a little later to tell her a joke or two, brush an invisible piece of lint of her shoulder.

"So, what'd I miss?" he asks casually, pressing his lips together as he shifts his gaze at the monitor. When neither of the detectives responds, Castle tilts his head at Beckett to gauge her reaction.

It doesn't bode well for him. Her brow is furrowed suspiciously, eyes darting between him and Demming and the seemingly strategically placed coffee on the table. He gulps, waiting for the last piece of the puzzle to fall in place in her mind.

But she mustn't be able to put it all together. Instead, she lets out an obviously frustrated puff of air and shakes her head, hopefully shrugging off their odd behaviour as simply her imagination.

"Nothing yet," she says. "Still searching for something."

Suddenly, a movement on the screen catches his eye. "Hey- Paul Finch!"

"Oh, yeah. He's casing he place," Demming notes, leaning forward in his seat, all-professional and no trace of awkwardness.

Beckett studies the screen, eyes lighting up as the pieces of the crime begin to fall into place, her focus now completely shifted back onto the case. "And look who his partner is."

Second crisis averted.

* * *

Beckett's in the break room making another cup of coffee to keep her going through the afternoon when Esposito strolls in. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she swears there's almost a skip in his step, but she shakes her head. A little lack of sleep has left her imagining things all day.

But then he's leaning against the counter next to her, arms folded and eyebrows raised. "Had an interesting chat with my boy Demming earlier…" Esposito starts, his tone all too leading and curious for this to be just another friendly conversation between co-workers. "He mentioned he happened to have a little chat of his own with writer-boy last night."

Beckett stops stirring her coffee and slowly twists her neck to face Esposito. She glares at the smirk on his face, thoughts crossing her mind of what the hell Castle could have possibly done now. "Spit it out, Esposito," she snaps, not in the mood to play games.

But Esposito shrugs innocently, an expression all over his face that says of _you know how Castle can be_. "Something may have come up about you and Castle. Apparently, Castle told him that you guys are together."

Beckett's jaw drops, eyes widening in disbelief, and she doesn't even bother to control the volume of the shout that follows. "Castle said _what_?"

"So it's not true?" Esposito sounds entirely too disappointed, probably hoping for a little inside scoop to place another bet on them.

"_No_, it's not true," she growls at him before turning on her heels and stalking out of the precinct, cursing Castle's name under her breath.

He's _dead_.

* * *

Castle's not at all prepared when the knock resounds on his door, Beckett's loud shouts for him to open the door echoing along the wooden floorboards and up into the open space of his loft. Heart speeding up in his chest at the wrath that's surely coming, Castle gulps and tries to prepare himself to act natural as he pulls open his front door.

Beckett storms straight passed him, entering his apartment without waiting for an invitation, face red and body tense with fury. "Castle, why the _hell_ did you tell Tom we were together?"

Castle flounders for a response, mouth opening and closing uselessly as no sound escapes his lips.

Truth be told, he didn't know what he'd been thinking. He just couldn't bear the thought of seeing her with Demming, watching the sparks fly between them, when they should be flying with _him_. And it just… slipped out.

And hell- he didn't think she'd ever find out. Thought it would just become something he had done, in the hope she'd forget about Demming in a few days time, and maybe- just_maybe_- notice he's right there, waiting for her.

When he doesn't respond, she pushes on. She moves into his personal space, her body language fierce and facial expression demanding as if she's interrogating a suspect. "Hmm? What the _hell_ do you think gives you the right to say something like that?"

He cringes, fumbling for an answer that doesn't make him sound like a jackass, but he knows there isn't one. When it comes down to it, he shouldn't have done it.

Castle sighs, and opens his mouth to apologise. "Kate-"

"No, Castle. You've been acting strange ever since he joined the case. Now, I don't know what your problem is with Demming, but I don't care. Either find a way to get over it, or don't work the case. Simple as that. But _don't_ be interfering in my relationships!"

His eyes fly wide open, her comment like a knife to his chest. "Your relationship? There isn't even anything going on between you two!"

"Well there's certainly not now. _You_ made sure of that," she growls, poking her finger into his chest angrily. "And the point of the matter isn't whether I am or am not involved with him, but that you went behind my back to sabotage any chance I could have had. I mean, why do you even _care_, Castle?"

"Because you should be with me."

Beckett freezes, her entire body stiff and eyes unblinking as she stares at him in completely shock, as if she can't believe the words that have just come from his mouth. And he knows open honesty isn't their thing, but is she really that blind? He's never made how he felt a secret, the lingering glances, the suggestive comments, the playful banter all becoming quite the norm for them. Or is that all she thinks this is? Play. Nothing real. Nothing that can one day turn into the best thing that'll ever happen for the both of them.

"Kate, I've been following you around for two years now," he continues. "Two years of just waiting for my chance. Two years of just waiting for you to notice me."

"The books," she speaks unconvincingly, her voice unusually timid, so far from the fearless Detective Beckett he knows. "Research."

"It's not about the books anymore, Kate, and you know that," he says quietly, almost sadly that she's denying this. _Him_.

Them.

She takes a few steps back, reeling from his confession, her hands pressing against her stomach as if she's trying to hold herself together. Her mouth is opens and shuts as she tries to find the right words, but can't quite get a grasp. "Castle…" she finally whispers, shaking her head apologetically as she trails off.

If it were anyone else, he would have given up then. If it were anyone else, it wouldn't matter so much to him. But it's not anyone else. It's Kate Beckett. And he can see the small flicker of interest in her eyes, as if she's thinking about the two of them, together, wondering whether it would really be so terrible.

He's always prided himself on being a man who goes after what he wants. And he wants Kate. And it's time to stop messing around and waiting for the right moment, and instead make that moment happen.

Feeling bold, he takes a large step towards her. But she shrinks back, putting the distance back between them. Castle suppresses a groan and instead tilts his head in question, trying to remain patient and play this her way, even though it's gotten them nowhere in almost two years. "Why are you so intent on fighting this?"

But she doesn't respond, ducking her head instead to avoid both his gaze and his question. Castle growls low in his throat, beyond frustrated now with her lack of response. He moves even closer, and she tries to step back and run from this, but her legs hit the back of his couch. Sensing the opportunity, he crosses the room in a flash, trapping her between his body and the couch. Beckett sucks in a sharp breath, eyes widen with panic at the realisation she has nowhere else to go.

"Kate, you're absolutely _extraordinary_," he murmurs. His hand reaches up to gently brush his fingers across her cheek, push back the hair falling across her face that's hiding her from him. "I understand you're afraid. I do. Two divorces have left me absolutely terrified of finding something real, only to have it shatter once before me yet again. But Kate, I_know_ what we have is real. And I _know_ you feel the same way. Because even though I can see you trying, you can't bring yourself to say no."

When his hand drops back down to his sides, fearing he's pushed too far, Beckett's own hand replaces his. Her trembling fingers touch the spot where his burnt her skin with the electricity that flows so easily between them before her eyes slowly lift up to meet his once again. She whispers his name again, and this time he waits patiently. He watches as her eyes search his, trying to find a trace of doubt in his mind, but he knows she won't find any.

"Kiss me," she says suddenly.

He blinks.

What?

"Kiss me," she repeats.

He opens his mouth to respond- because they should really talk about this- but then she's already got her fingers around his neck and she's pulling him close, her mouth slanting as she seeks out his. And then-

Mmm.

He's kissing Kate Beckett.

Her mouth is hot and desperate against his, her tongue snaking between his lips, her body rolling into his and her hands roaming and clutching at his body as her mouth-

God, her mouth.

There's nothing in the world that's going to stop him now.


	3. 1x07 Home Is Where The Heart Stops

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**1x07 Home Is Where The Heart Stops**

* * *

_What if… Beckett had bought the date with Castle?_

* * *

"First item on our list," Martha starts, "Is a signed first edition of 'Storm Season' by- well, by my son. There he is!" Martha points, a little wiggle of her fingers as she waves at them. "Wave, darling, so everyone can see you. My still single son!" Martha adds, a sly smile on her face as the eyes of all the single ladies in the room suddenly turn to him.

"Now, as a special bonus, the winning bidder will also receive an _enchanting_ evening in his company. Alright, ladies- that's the best I can do. The rest is up to you. Okay, do we have an opening bid?"

Beckett tries not to let her jaw drop as the women in the room (and even one gentleman) start shouting out numbers, so much higher than she'd ever be able to afford on a cop's salary.

Twenty-five hundred.

Three thousand.

Four thousand.

If she's being honest, it's a little intimidating- that these women are all so desperate to win an evening with Castle that they are willing to drop thousands of dollars without a second thought. But it's mostly just amusing; the look on Castle's face as the women claw over one another for him is absolutely priceless.

Suddenly, he turns to her, not even bothering to hide the desperation in his eyes and voice. "Look, I have money. Anything you pay- I'll pay you back!"

She grins, enjoying his obvious discomfort, so far from the usual cocky Castle she's come to know over the past few weeks. "Oh, not a chance in hell, Castle."

"Beckett, _please_," he begs. "Name your price- I'll do anything."

Beckett raises an eyebrow, amused. He must be pretty desperate to be _begging_ her. And if he's this desperate, she might be able to get something out of it.

"You going to listen to me from now on when I give you an order?"

"Yes."

"Stay in the car when we go to take down a suspect?"

"Yes."

"Stop harassing me every couple of minutes when I'm doing paperwork?"

"Yes."

"Stop messing with my chair?"

"Yes."

"Stop hassling the boys for embarrassing stories on me?"

"Yes, yes, _yes_. _Anything_, Beckett. Anything you want. Just- please. I don't want to go to dinner with any of these women. They're _vultures_- you really have no idea."

"Oh- seven thousand dollars!" Martha cries out, drawing their attention back to the stage. "Going once…"

"Beckett, please," he urges again, stepping closer to her, his face leaning in expectantly as he waits on her answer. She hesitates for another moment, pressing her lips together as she considers.

A dinner with Castle.

Would it really be so bad?

"Going twice…"

Oh, fine.

"Ten thousand," Beckett shouts out confidently, as if she actually has that much money to blow on one dinner. Her hand rises high into the air, catching Martha's attention. The woman pauses, a sparkle in her eye and a look of intense interest spreading across her face at the unfolding events.

Finally, the woman continues, pointing to Beckett and acknowledging her bid. "Ten thousand dollars. Very generous. Going once…" Martha announces. "Going twice… sold, for ten thousand dollars. Congratulations. Hope you two kids… _enjoy_ your evening together." Martha throws them a wink for good measure before stepping off the stage, her moment finished.

Beckett moves to follow Martha off to the side and settle her bid when she feels Castle's fingers snake around her wrist to stop her movement, his lips at her ear and his breath hot as it washes over her bare skin.

"Very generous bid, Detective," he whispers. "I'll be sure to make the evening worth your while."

* * *

After being force-fed eggs when she just dropped by to return Martha's necklace, Beckett's in the hallway ready to leave when Castle's voice cuts through the air.

"Oh, I almost forgot- what time should I pick you up tonight?" he asks, head poking around the doorframe, tilted to the side as he waits for her response.

Beckett spins around on the spot and flicks up an eyebrow, confused. "Excuse me?"

"Tonight," Castle reiterates. "What time should I pick you up? For our date?"

She rolls her eyes. Like she's actually going to let him take her out on a date. "Castle, we don't actually have to go out. Just give me the money back and we're even."

"Oh, no. That won't do." Castle shakes his head dramatically. "You have no _idea_ how grateful I am. The least I can do is take you out for dinner."

"No, Castle. That's really not necessa-"

"I'll pick you up at eight," he interrupts, waltzing away back into his apartment, a victorious grin on his face, before she has a chance to protest.

Great.

* * *

She wasn't going to get dressed. She swears she wasn't.

After finally making it home, Beckett had decided she wasn't going to get ready for this… dinner she supposedly had tonight.

And if he _did_ show up… well, she'd just turn him away. She had better things to do on a Saturday night than go to dinner with Castle. Like…

Okay. So she didn't have anything better to do. Still didn't mean she was going to go to dinner with him.

But an hour before he was scheduled to show, she had a sudden change of mind, the idea of witnessing what Castle is like on a Saturday night intriguing her. So she'd jumped in the shower, half-curled her hair, applied a light dusting of makeup and changed into a dress with a neckline plunging so low it can definitely not be considered appropriate for a simple dinner.

Because that's all this is. Just dinner. Not a date. Just dinner, between a cop and a writer who weaselled his way into shadowing said cop, and who now owes the cop a night out because she did him a favour.

Yep. Not a date.

So when she opens her door to his knock, she's completely surprised by the sight in front of her.

He's completely groomed- hair gelled, freshly shaven, suit and tie, polished shoes- the whole works. And he has flowers in his hand, the bunch of pink and white carnations already fully bloomed and tied together with a bright red ribbon.

That's sweet. But it's still not a date.

When Beckett finally manages to bring her eyes up from the flowers in his hands, she finds his eyes raking over her, mouth slightly parted as he takes in her long, bare legs and the low plunge of her neckline.

Good choice of dress.

Still _not_ a date.

"Uh- hi. These- uh, these are for you." He holds out the bouquet for her, their fingers brushing as she takes it from him. Stepping back into her apartment, she leaves the door wide open, an invitation to enter while she finds a vase.

"So this is Katherine Beckett's sanctuary…" he murmurs, eyes wandering around her apartment.

"Everything you'd thought it would be?" she asks, amusement lacing her voice as she watches him. He remains speechless as he takes in every little detail- the little trinkets she collected when she was younger and holidaying with her family, the photo of her with her father from a few Christmases ago, her ever-growing book collection (thank _god_ she had the sense to hide his books).

But when he moves towards the bedroom, she grabs onto his arm to stop him. And though it stops him in his tracks, it _doesn't_ stop him from smirking at her and providing a witty comment. "It's still a little early in the evening to already be feeling me up, don't you think?" he quips, earning him one of her famous death glares.

"I think you've done enough snooping for now."

Wait-

For now?

Beckett presses her lips together, hopes he doesn't catch it, but it's _Castle_, and of _course _he notices. His eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing on the corners of her lips as he obviously imagines the later point in time when he gets to snoop around her bedroom.

Suppressing a groan, she instead moves to grab her coat, pushing Castle out of her apartment before he gets any other ideas. "Come on, Castle. Let's get this over with."

* * *

She has to give it to him- he's being a perfect gentlemen. Kept his distance from her during the car ride over, offered his hand to help her out when they arrived, held the door open for her to enter the restaurant first, pulled out her chair for her before taking his own seat, ordered them a bottle of _expensive_ red before picking up his own menu and studying it completely innocently.

She'd figured he'd try something- press up against her on the ride over, trail his fingers ever so enticingly across her knee- but so far, he hasn't. He hasn't done anything at all except make light chitchat, question her for a little more insight into her past (for Nikki, apparently), and tell her this place has a chocolate soufflé to _die_ for.

He's acting so far from the playboy that she's come to know. So far from the child that seems intent on pulling her pigtails every single chance he gets. So far from the man who can't listen to a single order that comes out of her mouth. So far from the hyped-up kid who can't sit still for two minutes. And it's surprisingly… well, it's just plain surprising. Knowing that there's this whole other side to him, a side that most people probably never gets to see, a side of him that's _real_, it's… nice. Refreshing. Enjoyable.

Something she'd like to see more of.

"So… how's the book coming along?" she asks casually, leaning across the table a little.

"Are you really that eager to get me out of your hair?" Castle questions, his expression amused but an eyebrow flicked up with actual curiosity. Beckett pressed her lips together, not responding. If he were to act more like _this_- perfectly behaved and delightfully considerate-around the precinct, she'd be perfectly happy for him to continue shadowing her.

Of course, she's not really sure jus how long this side of him is going to last.

"It's good," he eventually says. "Really good, actually. I don't think my publisher has ever been so happy with me."

She nods vacantly. "So, you've got a plot and everything?"

The smug expression she's so used to seeing on him suddenly spreads across his face as he smirks at her. "Now, now, Detective Beckett- you wouldn't be trying to pry some spoilers out of me, would you?"

Beckett scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she's sure the heat of a light blush that she can feel rising to her cheeks gives her inner curiosity away. Trying to deflect from answering, she shifts awkwardly in her seat, her forearms resting on the table as she leans against them.

When she finally flicks her eyes back up to his, sure there's no longer a trace of curiosity about his novel in them, she finds him openly staring at her chest, his mouth slightly parted as he takes her in.

She straightens immediately, a scowl on her face as he snaps his head back up to meet her eyes. He only stares at her for a moment, lust swimming in his eyes before he at least has the decency to look embarrassed that she just caught him openly leering at her. Castle clears his throat, blinking rapidly and averting his gaze as he reaches for his glass of wine and takes a long sip.

"So…" he starts, floundering for a new conversation topic that will shift the focus off the fact that he can't seem to keep his eyes off her. "Tell me more about your mother. What was she like?"

Beckett smiles to herself at the memory of her mother, but hesitates before answering. She doesn't often talk about her mother. Especially not with men she's only known for a few weeks. Because as much as she loves reminiscing about all the wonderful memories they shared, every time she thinks about her, she's also reminded of the last ten years of hurting.

But, feeling unusually safe and comfortable with him, she does. And it's nice.

* * *

It's still relatively early when Castle's town car pulls up outside her apartment. Beckett turns to him, smiling sweetly as she clutches onto her bag awkwardly, unsure of what to say now the evening is over. "Thankyou for dinner, Castle."

He shrugs it off like it's no big deal. "No problem. Hope it was bearable."

She chuckles. "I had a good time."

"You don't need to sound so surprised, Detective. I'm quite capable of being civilised when I need to be."

"Maybe you should try acting like that a little more of the time?" she suggests.

"Ah, but that would be so boring."

Beckett chuckles again, her head ducking so stop him from seeing the twinkle in her eyes, before biding him a goodnight and turning towards the car door.

Her hand is on the doorhandle when she pauses.

She wants to invite him up.

But-

No. They couldn't.

Or… could they?

She hesitates a moment longer, considering the idea.

Maybe this has been his plan all along. Act like a perfect gentlemen, make her doubt every thought she's ever had about him, make her laugh and smile until _she_ is the one begging_him_.

Whatever it is, it's worked, because she suddenly turns and leans across the seat, places her hand on his upper thigh, and speaks in a low, sultry voice, the meaning behind her words all too clear.

"You want to come up for some coffee?"

* * *

Castle whistles cheerily, a skip in his step, as he does the walk of shame along the still empty streets of Manhattan early the following morning.

Beckett may have kicked him out of her bed the moment she'd received the call from dispatch, but just _before_ that moment, she was completely engrossed in round three. Slinking out of her own sheets and shrugging on a robe for decency, she'd told him to go home, take a shower, and do some writing. No need to come into the precinct today.

He had to stop himself from doing one of her classic eye-rolls.

Like he can stay away now he's had a taste of her.


	4. 3x22 To Love and Die in LA

**A/N:** Hope you all enjoy this one. Just remember that we all know exactly what Beckett wanted when she opened up her door in THAT scene.

* * *

**3x22 To Love and Die in L.A.**

* * *

_What if… there was a mix-up with Castle's reservation?_

* * *

"You said it was a two bedroom," Beckett hisses, poking her finger hard into his chest.

The receptionist at his hotel in Los Angeles has just politely told him that their one-bedroom apartment is already set up just as he likes, and that she hopes they enjoy their stay together. As can be expected, Beckett isn't taking the news of sharing a bed with him well, a murderous expression quickly taking over her face as she turns on him.

Castle cringes, holding up his palms in front of him to show his innocence. And for once, it's not actually his fault. "I swear that's what the studio booked! I didn't do this!"

She accompanies her scoff with an eye roll, her tone all disbelief. "Of course not."

"I didn't. Alexis was going to come with me, but she changed her mind. Had exams to study for," he tries to explain, shaking his head when he starts going off topic. "Look, Beckett- I'll just book another room. Simple as that."

"Castle, I'm not going to make you pay for another room. Just drop me at my hotel. I'm sure they still have my room free."

"We've been over this. Your hotel is an _hour_ away. Just let me do this." Castle sees her mouth open, her protest on the tip of her tongue, when he interrupts before she can get a word in otherwise. "Beckett, it's no big deal. Honestly. It's not like I paid for this first room, and I just want to help."

And it's the truth. He _does_ want to help. Because she's hurting, having just lost an old friend, and all he wants to do is make sure she's alright, because he lo-

_Cares_ for her. A great deal. Like all partners do.

Finally, Beckett sighs, giving him an almost imperceptible nod of her head. "Fine, Castle."

Castle nods, no trace of a victorious grin on his face because he knows this isn't the time, and turns back to the woman behind the reservations desk. "Can I please book another room?"

The woman behind the counter- Rachel, her nametag reads- only glances down at the computer for a moment before she shakes her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're fully booked."

Castle scowls at the news. This isn't some cheap motel off the side of the highway that only has a few rooms to rent. It's a luxurious, five-star building, and therefore _huge_. There's no reason for it to have filled up long before summer officially starts. "How can you be fully booked?"

"We're hosting two conferences this weekend," Rachel explains with a shrug of her shoulders. "I can call one of our other hotels for you if you'd like? See if they have any rooms free?"

"Castle, just forget about it," Beckett says. "I don't have time for this. Let's just head out for now, and I'll catch a cab over to my hotel later."

Against his better judgement, Castle opens his mouth with another offer. "I'll sleep on the couch."

She lets out a breathy, amused puff of laughter. "Castle, I'm not going to share a hotel room with you."

Castle smiles innocently. "I assure you my attentions are pure."

He almost snorts at his own comment.

Pure. Right.

In the end, she agrees with his reasoning that it's the most efficient way to work together, but he can see it in her eyes that she'd rather not be alone.

He'll go along with her excuse, though, so long as he gets to be there for her.

* * *

It's late when Castle steps out of the bathroom they're sharing, and he mustn't glance up at her as he does so, because he suddenly calls out loudly that the bathroom is free if she wants it.

"Who was that?" Josh's voice sounds in her ear, his tone nothing but suspicious.

Beckett squeezes her eyes shut and grips the phone tighter, trying to steady her voice so it sounds casual when she speaks, but she knows the damage has already been done. "Just Castle."

"Castle? You're in L.A. with Castle?"

"Yeah," she tries to shrug it off like it's no big deal; like they aren't about to share a room for the night. "He's out here visiting the set of his movie."

"So what's he doing in your hotel room at eleven o'clock at night?"

Beckett sighs; a fight is the last thing she wants right now. "Josh, just calm down, it's not-"

"Calm down? My girlfriend is on a holiday out of state with another man, who's currently in her hotel room late at night. Don't tell me to calm down."

"It's not a holiday, Josh. My friend was murdered. I came out here to try and find some answers."

"And Castle selflessly offered to fly out with you."

"Why are you making such a big deal about this? He's my partner."

"I thought he was your shadow," Josh spoke bitterly.

"He's-"

"He's in love with you, Kate. God- any idiot can see that. And I've never even cared before, because you aren't dating him. I figured if you actually wanted to be with him, you wouldn't be dating me. But when some guy is across the country with my girlfriend, and he's in her hotel room late at night, don't you think I have some reason to be concerned?"

She sits there completely frozen, Josh's words chanting over and over again through her head.

_He's in love with you._

He's-

In love with her?

"Kate? Are you going to say something?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but flounders, barely a squeak coming out. "I-" Beckett stops with the realisation she has nothing to say, the silence deafening for a moment before Josh finishes their conversation.

"Yeah. Got it."

The line clicks off abruptly, and it's a moment before Beckett slowly lowers the phone to her lap, staring at the now blank screen. If she's being completely honest, she doesn't even care he's mad at her.

"I'm sorry," Castle apologises quietly. "I didn't mean to cause any problems."

Beckett lifts her head to meet his concerned gaze. He's standing across the room by his suitcase, thankfully having the decency to busy himself during her awkward conversation with Josh, even though she knows he heard every word of it. She offers him a tight smile as she shakes her head. "Not your fault, Castle."

He sighs. "Beckett-"

"It's late," she interrupts, averting her gaze and getting to her feet as she tries to avoid the conversation he surely wants to have. "And, I want to be up early in the morning. I'm shorter, and I'm imposing, so I'll take the couch," she declares as she grabs the spare blanket from the cupboard.

She flicks off the light without another word.

* * *

Beckett squeezes her eyes shut even tighter as she restrains herself from letting out a frustrated groan.

She should have never agreed to stay here. This hotel is… outrageous. Extravagant. Absolutely luxurious. And of course, nothing says luxurious like a brand new expensive leather couch. And while it was fine to sit on, sleeping on it is another issue entirely.

There's barely any cushioning beneath her, not yet having had time to be worn in, and therefore leaving her with the feeling she's lying on a concrete floor. The seat is too narrow to lie on properly, the back cushions attached to the couch instead of detachable. And to top it all off, her knees are tucked up awkwardly to her chest, the armrests at either end too thick to provide enough room for her to stretch out properly.

There's no way she's falling asleep tonight.

Unless…

No. She couldn't. Josh is already pissed enough without adding sleeping in the same bed as Castle into the equation.

But-

Josh isn't here. Josh isn't the one who flew across the country because an old friend was murdered. Josh isn't the one who stops at nothing to make her smile. Josh isn't the one who always has her back.

Josh isn't the one who she wants to be with.

And she's hurting. Her training officer- her friend- is _dead_. Murdered. The same man who helped her move on from her mother's murder.

All she wants is a little… comfort. Some closeness.

No harm, right?

Almost without conscious thought, Beckett throws back the blankets. They pile into a heap at the end of the couch, and she swings her legs down onto the floor before she can think through her actions any further. As quietly as she can, she crosses the room, hoping Castle is already asleep and she can just crawl beneath the sheets for the night and crawl back out in the morning without him ever knowing.

He's not, of course. His breathing gives him away, too deep to be asleep.

And, he's right in the middle of the bed.

Beckett presses her lips together, hesitating for just a moment longer, before reaching out and lifting the corner of the blanket, hoisting it back just far enough for her to slip in beside Castle.

His eyes fly open at the movement, and he stutters as he clutches the blanket to his chest. "Beckett, what are you-"

"Move over, Castle," she orders.

"Beckett-"

"Move _over_," she hisses again.

"Kate, you shouldn't- I mean, I don't think this is a good idea," he whispers. "What would Josh think?"

She doesn't even pause. "Josh isn't here." Never is.

But Castle shakes his head, eyes still as wide as saucers. "Kate, I don't want to make things any worse than they already are."

Beckett ignores Castle's comment, and instead moves and slips her legs beneath the sheets. They immediately come into contact with Castle's, and he jolts at the contact, the electricity sparking between them even through the layers of clothing they're both wearing.

"Much comfier than the couch," she comments innocently as she snuggles down beneath the sheets.

* * *

Castle thinks he's going to have a coronary any moment now.

He's currently sleeping- well, lying- in the same bed as Katherine Beckett (because who can fall to sleep when _Katherine Beckett_ is lying in the same bed?). His hands are tightly fisted together, resting on his lower stomach, and eyes glued to the ceiling to stop both from wandering over to her.

There's no way he's getting to sleep tonight.

Out of nowhere, her voice cuts through the tense silence of their hotel room. "I don't love him," she whispers.

Castle doesn't say anything, doesn't dare so much as blink as he waits for her to continue. Honesty isn't their thing at all, and so he doesn't want to spook her into stopping. He just wants her to be comfortable enough to open up to him.

"Josh, I mean. I was going to end things with him," she eventually continues quietly. "He's always catching up on paperwork or travelling on another Doctors Without Borders mission, and I was so tired of trying to make the relationship work when he was barely even here to do the same thing. But then he came back, and I couldn't do it. So I told myself that we could work; that I could make myself fall in love with him."

"Kate, you shouldn't have to force yourself to love him," Castle interrupts softly. "Relationships are work, yes. But falling in love should be effortless."

Beckett lets out a shaky breath, rolling over onto her side to face him. Following her lead, Castle tilts his head towards her, but his body is still frozen as he watches her forefinger snake across the sheets and trace gently up his arm. He has to press his lips together with restraint at the electricity shooting through him.

One tiny touch and he's already a goner. God help him.

"But I'm just so tired of being alone, Castle," she chokes.

Oh, Kate.

"I build up these walls and never let anyone get close," she continues. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

He shakes his head. "You're not alone, Kate. Your dad, Lanie, the boys- they're all here. _I'm_ here."

She smiles both sweetly and sadly, peering up at him through thick lashes, her eyes shining with unshed tears that he's never seen before. "I know," she whispers.

Castle doesn't even know how it happens. One moment, he's lying in the bed next to Beckett, his eyes focused on her as they talk, and the next, she's on top of him, her body moulding into his as her lips urgently find his.

He freezes at first, completely in shock at the sudden turn of events, because this is Kate Beckett. And Kate Beckett does not kiss him.

So when he doesn't respond, she pulls away, her body rising off his to sit above him. Frustration at his lack of response is all over her face, but it quickly morphs into determination. Before he can stop her, her fingers grab the bottom of her shirt and pull it straight up over her head, discarding it somewhere in a far corner of the room. And-

She's not wearing a bra.

And he's a man, after all, so he can't help it when his eyes drop from her face to her chest, taking in the sight of her bare body. Castle sucks in a sharp breath as he openly stares at her, the moments ticking by until she's leaning back down over him, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to his neck.

_God_, she's amazing. _This_ is amazing.

But it's all so wrong. And they need to stop.

"Kate, no," he whispers disapprovingly, but he's too weak, too in love with her. Her breath against his skin is tantalizing and sends a wave of desire through his body, and so even though he shouldn't encourage this, he doesn't make an attempt to move away.

Slowly, Beckett pulls back just a fraction so that her eyes can find his. "Please, Castle," she whispers, her voice shaky, hands almost trembling as her fingers fist in his shirt. "Please."

Castle shakes his head, gently brushing a lock of hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear almost lovingly. "Kate-"

"_Please_," she begs.

He can't resist her any more. The desperation in her voice is too much; he just wants to comfort her.

He just wants _her_.

Against his better judgement, his hands fly up to grip her tightly. Castle rolls them over, pressing her down into the mattress with his body as his mouth seeks out hers. His tongue slips between her lips, and he almost loses it at the soft moan that escapes from her throat.

Her hands run down his chest, nails digging into him, until she's tugging at the bottom of his shirt. He breaks away just long enough to let her tug it over his head, and he can't hold back the groan when their bare skin comes into contact. Electricity zaps between them, the rustle of the sheets fills his ears, and his veins heat up inside every inch of his body.

He can't wait. He needs her now.

Before he knows it, her pants have joined her shirt somewhere on the floor, his are joining hers, and she's arching up beneath him and crying out his name.

He doesn't let her go, instead holding her close to him through the night, unable to part from her as doubts of what they've done flood his mind.

He should have stopped this. He _knows _he should have stopped stop this. She's just lost an old friend. She has a boyfriend.

But this is _Kate_. He's waited three long years for a chance with her. And even if it's just for one night, he supposes he should just take what he can get.

* * *

They don't talk about it the next morning.

As if he really expected them too.

Instead, she's already up and working on a murder board when he wakes. And if she weren't avoiding his gaze, tiptoeing around him just a little too carefully, he wouldn't even be sure anything had happened.

But it did happen. And there's no way he's ever going to be able to forget it, sure the memory of her clinging to him as she whimpers his name will taunt him forever.

Back in New York, they share a cab from the airport, sitting in complete silence as the driver weaves his way through the streets still busy late into the night. And when they arrive at her apartment and she jumps out, offering him nothing but a tight smile, he feels his heart break into a million pieces inside his chest with the realisation that this is quite possibly the end for them.

Castle barely bothers with a glance at his mother when he arrives home, instead heading straight for the bottle of scotch he's got stashed away in his study. He downs a glass- two, three- before he lets out a long, defeated sigh. A glance at the clock tells him it's just past two in the morning, and he figures he should get some rest before he has to wake to bid his daughter a good morning.

He's just finishing his nightly routine when a timid knock sounds at the front door.

Castle scowls when he opens the door to find Kate standing on the other side, his jaw clenching with the restraint of holding back everything he wants to shout at her. That he's more than just her partner. That he's more than just a quick fuck one night when she needs some comfort. That he deserves better than her walking away from him without another glance back. That it's been three goddamn years, and he's sick of this wall she's insistent on keeping between them.

But all that anger floats away when she opens her mouth and speaks, her voice barely a whisper but full of both fear and happiness.

"I ended things with Josh."

Oh.


	5. 2x24 A Deadly Game

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**2x24 A Deadly Game**

* * *

_What if… Beckett had kissed Castle?_

* * *

They shouldn't be doing this.

They _really _shouldn't be doing this.

They're in the middle of the precinct, where anyone could walk by and interrupt them.

For God sakes- it's not like they're even in the break room. They're at her _desk_, smack bang in the centre of the bullpen, going at it like two horny teenagers.

But when he had stepped in front of her and interrupted her line of vision to her careful handwriting on their latest murder board to announce he was heading home for the night she didn't even think. Just grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, pulled him towards her, and crushed her mouth onto his.

She doesn't want him to leave, doesn't want this to be their last case. She doesn't want him to leave for the summer, scared he'll forget about her, move on, and won't come back. After two years, they've grown close, and she doesn't want him out of her life.

But this isn't right at all. She's with another man for crying out loud. Demming is… nice. Nice enough to put a smile on her face. Nice enough to order Chinese food and sit with her when she's stuck at the precinct late into the night. Nice enough to organise spending a long weekend out of the city.

But that's all he is. Nice. There's no _real_ spark, just a little ember that will fizzle out soon enough.

He isn't Castle.

So that's how they got to be desperately clutching one another and battling for dominance in the middle of the precinct.

She can't seem to get close enough to him, hands sneaking inside his jacket and up his back, nails digging into his skin. Her legs wrap around him and tug him nearer, and she's pulled forward towards the edge of her desk where was sitting before she practically assaulted him. When his fingers skirt the bottom of her shirt before slipping underneath to graze across her bare skin she can't help the moan that reverberates low in her throat.

Suddenly, he pulls back with a loud smack of their lips, as if he's just realised what they're doing and where they're doing it. "Kate-"

"Don't go," she whispers, eyes still tightly shut. Her fingers dig tightly into his arms, her head shaking ever so slightly from side to side. "Don't go."

"I-"

She cuts him off with her mouth, afraid he'll tell her he's going to walk out anyway. The kiss is slower this time, almost pleading. Fingers weaving into her hair, he tilts her head back and crowds into her a little more.

When they eventually break apart again he doesn't move back. Instead he rests his forehead against hers. Short, hot bursts of his breath wash enticingly over her lips, and Beckett swallows the lump in her throat as she finally gathers the courage to open her eyes.

His bright blue eyes are staring straight back at her unwaveringly. She bites her lip cautiously and returns his stare, until a shoe scuffing on the floorboards breaks through the silence. They both pull back instantly, faces flushing, eyes wide in panic, heads turning towards the sound.

It's Demming.

Beckett's heart constricts in her chest as her fingers rise to her red, swollen lips, trying to hide the evidence of what they were just doing, but by the look on Demming's face he saw it all.

Faintly she hears Castle mumble an excuse before he's stepping back from her, turning and leaving without another word. Beckett rises from her perch on the edge of her desk and moves around the side to drop down into her chair. After a quick flick of her eyes to Castle's empty chair, she lifts her eyes and acknowledges Demming's presence.

The muscles in his jaw are clenched, his posture rigid and hands scrunched tightly into fists as he moves towards her, slowly sinking into the Castle's seat. Beckett's swollen lips part to say something but she's not even sure what. She has nothing that can explain her actions without hurting him.

Demming beats her to the punch, his tone almost accepting. "So, this isn't really the relationship you want to be in, is it?"

Beckett sighs. She can't lie. He doesn't deserve that, or _any_ of this for that matter. "I'm sorry, Tom," she apologises, eyes lifting back to his to convey how truly sorry she is.

"It's okay, Kate," he shrugs, leaning back in the chair a little. "Do I wish it worked out between us? Sure. But this isn't going to work, and I can see that. I'd rather we cut our losses now, and hope that we can remain friends."

Beckett tries to smile but fails miserably. She knows they won't stay friends, but it's a nice gesture. It's that simple gesture that makes her sick to her stomach with guilt because it reminds her of what a decent man Demming is. A man who is completely genuine. A man who has done nothing but try and make her laugh since the moment he met her. A man who is stepping back because he found her kissing someone else. He's a man who doesn't deserve any of this.

He stands and raps his knuckles twice on her wooden desk and nods. "See you around, Kate."

Beckett watches him leave, disappearing down the stairs back to Robbery. She sighs as her eyes drift back to Castle's empty chair and drops her head down into her hands, elbows resting on the desk.

God, she's made such a mess.

"What are you waiting for?" a voice shouts out.

Beckett's head snaps up, her eyes full of questions. She's met with the sight of Esposito sitting at his desk, staring at her as if she's missing something big.

"Go find Castle, and fix things before it's too late," he tells her before spinning around in his seat, the corners of his mouth lifting in a knowing smile.

Beckett grins and grabs her bright red jacket from the back of her chair.

Castle. Right.

* * *

In her haste to find him, Beckett completely forgets all about his poker game. So when she finally works up the courage to knock on Castle's door, she's embarrassed when he ushers her in and over to his fellow writers to catch the tail end of a conversation about _her_.

She raises one eyebrow in question, her head tilting to the side as she waits for an answer.

"I was just explaining to them more about my, ah- writing process," Castle offers her with an innocent shrug.

She snorts. "Writing process? You mean, hang around the precinct every day until your ex-wife rings _me_ because you've missed the deadline for your manuscript?"

She hears his friends chuckling under their breaths in the background, but her eyes are glued firmly to his.

"No, not that process," he corrects her, a shake of his head to say _don't be silly_. "The one where I follow around the best detective in Manhattan."

She ducks her head as she feels the warmth tingle across her cheeks, one hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear as a distraction. She opens her mouth, ready to retort, but she's got nothing. Instead, she presses her lips tightly together as she feels her cheeks heat up a little more.

Great.

In her line of vision directly down to the floor, she sees his feet move away from her as he turns towards his company. "Sorry to cut tonight short, guys."

Beckett's head snaps up at that because she doesn't want to force him to kick his friends out, but there's a warning look in his eyes. She gives him a curt nod before taking a step back into the shadows, waiting as he shakes hands and claps shoulders and shows them to the door.

"But I have, uh- a busy day tomorrow," he continues, scratching his head absently as he fumbles through his flimsy excuse. "Alexis going to Princeton and everything. Early morning, long drive. You know how it is."

The guys chuckle knowingly, but they don't say anything except remind Castle that he owes them their winnings, and then they're out the door before she knows it.

Beckett offers him an apologetic smile as he closes the door and turns toward her. "Sorry, I forgot you were playing poker tonight."

Castle simply shakes his head, stepping slowly across the room, almost cautiously. "No, it's fine. My mind wasn't really here anyway."

She nods absently, eyes flickering away, unsure of what to say. Yes, she may have come here to talk things over with him and work everything out. But being completely honest isn't who she is, and she has no clue where to start. When she doesn't speak up, she hears him let out a low, disappointed sigh.

"Why are you here, Kate?"

Her teeth dig into her lower lip with just another moment's hesitation before her eyes finally seek out his.

"You still want some company in the Hamptons?"

* * *

They don't talk about her and Demming.

She knows he's curious, but he thankfully doesn't ask questions. Instead, she leaves him for the night when his phone rings with the promise of _tomorrow _hanging between them. They wrap up the case neatly the next day, have a couple of drinks with their team, and then get his car to make the drive out to the Hamptons before it gets too dark.

The sun is just starting to set when they arrive. Beckett's eyes are wide as she follows Castle into his summer home. He definitely didn't oversell this place. The view from the deck is absolutely breathtaking as the sun throws reds, oranges, and even purples high into the sky as it sets. She turns to him then, a polite comment about the beauty of this place ready on the tip of her tongue only to blush when he's staring at her instead of the sky. This time, though, she doesn't duck her head, instead offering Castle a smile as he gives her a tour of the house.

She thinks it's cute when he shows her to his own room, a breathy chuckle escaping her lips before she asks where _his_ room is, and places her bag next to his.

* * *

They spend the next couple of days completely wrapped up in their own little world.

They don't make it out of the house on the first day. Hell, they don't even make it out of the bedroom until early afternoon when food becomes essential. The fridge lacks any sort of real food so Castle cooks her pancakes from an old add-water-and-cook mix. As a _thank you_, he laughs cheekily.

Beckett blushes, laughs, and winks at him as he flips the pancake down onto her plate. "You keep this up and there'll be plenty more to thank me for later," she promises.

* * *

They venture out of the house for a late breakfast at a café in town on the second day. Beckett chuckles when Castle scoots his chair around the table to sit beside her, his hand resting gently on her knee. It's not until their food arrives that she realises his ulterior motive, when his hand darts up out of nowhere and snatches a strip of bacon from her plate, apparently not satisfied with the stack of pancakes in front of him.

"Castle…" Beckett scolds as she swats his hand away. Her eyes have narrowed into two thin slits but the corners of her mouth give her away, twitching upwards in amusement at the sheepish look on his face. So she simply rolls her eyes and returns to her attention back to her food, hoping if she ignores him it'll discourage his mischievous behaviour.

* * *

Beckett lets him hold her hand as they wander down the street after breakfast, browsing in the windows as the owners open their shops for the day. It isn't long before they run into someone Castle knows, and she smiles politely as he introduces her.

"Kate, this is Donna and Mark," Castle explains, giving her hand joined with his a squeeze as it hangs between their bodies. "This is Kate, my-"

Castle cuts off abruptly, his lips pressed together in embarrassment because this is all so new and they haven't had a chance to have _that_ awkward conversation yet.

Beckett simply swallows the lump that's risen in her throat and smiles. "Girlfriend," she finishes for Castle, holding out a hand for his friends to shake. "I'm his girlfriend. Nice to meet you both."

By the time they make it back to the house he can't seem to keep his hands off her, whispers of _girlfriend_ and _mine_ in her ear as they enjoy a little early afternoon delight.

* * *

On Monday, they spend a couple of hours on the beach, soaking up the sun until it disappears early afternoon behind a cloud. Beckett smiles at the feeling of the sand under her toes, the cool water lapping over her feet as she stands at the waters edge. The salty air floating off the ocean fills her lungs and sticks to her skin, so much fresher than the thick, polluted air of Manhattan. Castle steps up behind her, pressing a kiss to her uncovered shoulder before suddenly scooping her into his arms. She lets out a yelp, threatening him with her gun as he wades deeper into the ocean, but he doesn't stop until he's just over knee deep and holding her out above the water ready to drop her at any moment. Clothes and everything.

At least she manages to take him down with her.

When they resurface, the quickly cooling air whistles around them. Beckett shoves Castle on the shoulder, waiting until he's lost his balance and is tumbling back into the water before sprinting for the beach. She grabs both their towels to wrap around herself as she passes by, heading straight back up the dunes to his beachfront home, the sand sticking to the back of her legs as it flicks up behind her.

When he finds her a few minutes later, she's already in his hot tub, salt water-soaked clothes stripped off and draped over the railing of the side patio. Despite the nights they've already spent together he stares at her, completely frozen and mouth parted as he takes in the sight of her. She smirks, moving through the water to the edge closest to him and motioning for him to come closer.

"You gonna just stand there all day, or strip off and join me?" she teases.

Finally, he's shaken from his trance. Castle grins as he slips in beside her, crowding her back and covering her lips with his.

* * *

Despite Beckett's protests, they set off the fireworks Castle bought on Monday night.

"Castle, you do realise I'm a _cop_, don't you?" she notes. "These are _illegal_. I could arrest you right now."

Castle simply wiggles his eyebrows. "You promise to use the cuffs?"

So Beckett rolls her eyes and gives in to the big child because she can see in his eyes that he's missing Alexis. That he's wishing she were here with him for their yearly tradition. It's their last night together before she has to make the drive back to Manhattan early in the morning, leaving him here alone to write throughout the summer.

Once the fireworks shoot out over the ocean Beckett leans into Castle's side, her head dropping down onto his shoulder. His arms wrap around her, protecting her from the cool breeze coming off the water as they watch the sparks shimmer as they fall down from the sky, lighting up the water below.

Sitting there, Beckett realises that in this moment, she's completely content. It's a feeling she hasn't felt in so long, and she loves it; loves being here with Castle after they've finally taken a chance on one another after two long years of playful banter. And though she has her doubts about where they'll be after the summer- whether he'll still want her, whether her insecurities ruin this- she can't help but hope that whatever this is will still be strong.

* * *

Castle smiles to himself as he watches her sleep late that night, her body curled into his, chest rising ever so slightly as she breathes gently in her sleep. His fingers trail up and down her arm until she stirs slightly, face nuzzling into his side and her body rolling into his just a fraction more.

Forget about his book- he'll drive back down to the city with her early tomorrow morning. Head back to the precinct with her, work whatever case they've picked up over the holiday weekend.

No way he's going to spend the summer apart from her now.

* * *

**A/N:** Because how could I not let them have the Hampton getaway they should have had?


	6. 2x18 Boom!

**A/N:** Once again, this one didn't take the direction I expected it to. That seems to happen more often than not, and I'm still not sure whether that's good or bad. Sigh.

Enjoy.

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**2x18 Boom!**

* * *

_What if… Martha was still living at the loft?_

* * *

Beckett can't believe she actually agreed to stay with Castle. Not that she really has much choice, because it's either whatever cheap hotel room she could book at the last minute, a sleepless night on the break room couch, or this. Over those other two options? His loft is definitely her first pick. Still, staying under the same roof as Castle isn't something she ever saw herself agreeing to.

It's awkward when they finally arrive at his apartment, sneaking in the front door late at night, an overnight bag filled with the contents of her locker in her hand. Martha and Alexis are still up, their eyes dropping immediately down to the bag she carries with her. Beckett blushes, knowing exactly what they're thinking, but Castle simply silences them with a look before they start blurting out suggestive ideas and explains how she'll be staying with them for a few days.

A few days? That's the first she's heard of this, having planned to be out of here first thing in the morning.

She lets it go for now, though, because she's still standing awkwardly in the living room when Castle's already busying himself in the kitchen. Dropping the bag by the end of the couch, Beckett leans against the kitchen counter, watching as he digs though the freezer for leftovers.

"Mac and cheese okay?" he asks.

She hums her agreement. "Anything I can do to help?"

Castle shakes his head as he reappears from behind the stainless steel door, tossing the frozen meals into the microwave. "Nope. Just have to wait for these to defrost."

She sighs and sinks down onto the stool beside Martha. "How you doing, kiddo?" the older woman asks sympathetically, placing a reassuring hand on her arm.

As usual, Beckett bottles her emotions and simply offers her a polite smile. "I'm okay, thanks, but I hope I'm not imposing by staying here?"

"Nonsense," Martha cries dramatically with a shake of her head. "You're always welcome here."

Beckett thanks Castle's family gratefully before they call it a night. She smiles to herself as Castle kisses both his daughter and mother on the cheek before they head upstairs, the sweeter side of him refreshing. She doesn't even realise she's staring at him until she blinks and finds him staring right back into her eyes, his baby blues piercing into her as if trying to judge how she's holding up.

Beckett opens her mouth, ready to reassure him when the microwave dings suddenly. She has to hold back a sigh of relief for the interruption to their staring contest as she takes a sip of her water.

Castle grins at her as he slides her bowl across the counter. "One mac and cheese, as ordered."

Beckett chuckles a _thank-you_, watching as he strides around the counter to sit on the stool beside her.

They sit in silence as they pick at their food, but she doesn't miss the sideways glances Castle keeps throwing her. She doesn't acknowledge them, though, instead keeps her eyes low in front of her until she's ready to clear her plate.

Eventually, they migrate to his table with two steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands. Beckett can't help but laugh at the number of marshmallows Castle manages to stuff into his mug, his inner child breaking free. He simply wiggles his eyebrows amusingly, pulling another chuckle from her lips.

It's not long before her eyes begin to droop and a yawn escapes. Suddenly acting like a responsible parent, Castle decides for her it's time they get some rest. On any other night, she would fight him on it, but she can't deny that running around all day on next to no sleep has worn her out. "Alright," she concedes. "I'm exhausted."

Castle jumps up from the table in a flash. "Do you want a shower?" he offers. "I can grab you a towel. Or-"

"It's fine, Castle," Beckett laughs. "I'll shower in the morning. I'm pretty sure I'm going to drop any minute now."

He nods in acceptance, but grabs her a towel for the morning anyway, along with a blanket and pillow from the linen cupboard. "Are you sure you don't want to take the bed?" he offers her again, his eyes flicking in the direction of his bedroom.

God, no, she thinks. Sleeping in Castle's bed? No way she'd be able to handle that.

"The couch is fine, Castle," is all she says, a tight smile on her lips as she takes the blanket from his arms.

Castle nods. "'Kay. Well, if you need me…"

Beckett can't help it when the smile on her lips morphs into something a little sweeter at his caring words. "Thanks, Castle. Night."

After quickly changing into something she borrows from Castle (which is no big deal, she tells herself for the millionth time), Beckett snuggles down onto the couch in the middle of his living room, trying to forget that Castle is sleeping just one thin wall away.

* * *

Beckett's alarm sounds early the following morning, and she fumbles sleepily to hastily switch it off before it wakes the other occupants of Castle's loft. Yawning, she tries to blink away the last remnants of sleep as she pushes herself up off the couch. Through bleary eyes, she half-stumbles her way across the living room, picking up her bag as she goes and heading for the bathroom. Images of a hot, steamy shower flood her mind, and Beckett smiles at the thought. After yesterday, it's just what she needs.

So she twists the handle to the downstairs bathroom, watching her feet as she enters to make sure she doesn't trip over in her half-asleep state. By the time her eyes flick up, it's already too late. Her entire body freezes, jaw involuntary dropping at the sight in front of her.

Right in the middle of the bathroom stands Castle, steam billowing around him and hair dripping onto his bare shoulders, nothing but a towel loosely wrapped low on his hips.

"Oh my god!" Beckett lets out a surprised yelp before stuttering over her words. "I'm sorry. I thought- I didn't realise- the door wasn't locked. I-"

"No. Uh, no," he interrupts. "My fault. I forgot to lock it. I didn't think- I'm not used to having to share."

It's only when he finishes, remaining silent as he waits for her response, does she realise she's not looking at his face. Rather, she's staring way too intently at his almost naked body, unable to drag her eyes away.

Beckett blinks furiously, averting her gaze back to the floor, heart rate picking up and cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry. I'll- uh, I'll wait," she stutters again, retreating before she has another chance to embarrass herself further.

When the door clicks shut behind her, Beckett lets out a long sigh. Her eyes squeeze shut and her head drops back against the door as she tries to rid herself of the humiliation currently swarming through her.

She can't believe she just walked in on Richard Castle wearing nothing but a very low-slung towel. Actually, the worst part isn't even the fact she just walked in on him. Her reaction? Now _that_ was completely inappropriate.

God, did she really have to _stare_ quite so openly? For quite so _long_?

The sight of him just… caught her off-guard. That's all. Nothing to do with the fact he was very nearly naked.

Cringing one last time, Beckett pushes herself off the door, deciding to start breakfast as she tries to calm her racing heart and regain control over herself.

* * *

Their day had been long and exhausting. Shaw had been taken. Their team had almost been blown up. Beckett had almost been _shot_ at point blank range until Castle saved her at the last moment. So when they finally arrive home-

_Castle's loft_, she corrects herself. Not home.

So when the finally arrive back at Castle's loft, Beckett's emotions are running high. Though not unusual to be high on an adrenaline rush after solving a case, this is different. Not knowing what to do with herself, she finds herself standing awkwardly in the entrance for a while until Castle plays host and ushers her over to the couch.

"Sit," he orders before breezing off to the kitchen. Nothing else to do, she watches him intently as he moves around, pulling out wine glasses and retrieving a bottle of red before returning to drop on the couch beside her.

"So… how're you doing?" he asks, holding out a glass for her to take. Their fingers brush as she accepts it gratefully, electricity shooting up her arm and reminding her of this morning's… _incident_.

Taking a long sip of her wine (which is going to do nothing to stop her racing heart), Beckett forces a polite smile on her face. "Fine," she responds. Castle's eyebrows rise as if he knows better, but there must be something to her voice that makes him play along with her lie.

"I didn't thank you earlier, but… thanks. For having my back, and saving my life," she explains gratefully.

Castle sends her a smile and shakes his head politely. "You don't ever need to thank me, Kate," he murmurs.

* * *

They're still on the couch a few hours later when a long yawn escapes from Castle's lips, causing Beckett to chuckle. "Sorry. Didn't realise I was boring you," she teases.

He shakes his head. "Never."

Through the alcohol-induced haze, she laughs again. "You don't have to play host just for me, Castle. Go and get some sleep." His mouth immediately opens to protest, but Beckett silences him with a look.

Castle shrugs, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyelids in an attempt to stay awake a little longer. "I'm good. Still need to shower, anyway."

Enjoying his company, Beckett gives in for the moment, but when he yawns another three times within the next five minutes, she places an insistent hand on his knee.

"Go shower, Castle. Shower and get some rest. Lots of paperwork to be done tomorrow, and I can't have you falling asleep in the middle of the precinct again."

Castle grimaces, obviously remembering the last time he fell asleep and all the pranks the boys pulled on him. "I guess you're right," he sighs, rising from the couch. He's halfway across the room when he pauses suddenly and turns back to her, smirk on his face. "I'll, uh- leave the door unlocked. You know, just in case you want to join me again."

She snorts, her eyes rolling too for good measure. "In your dreams, Castle."

Castle simply sends her a suggestive wink before turning his back on her.

Beckett watches as his shadowy outline move through the open bookshelves before disappearing into his bedroom. Once he's gone, she lets out a long sigh.

Join him. Pft. Yeah, right.

Eyeing their mess on the coffee table, Beckett gathers up their glasses and empty wine bottle, taking them to the sink to wash. She's just finishing when she hears the water start running through the pipes, signalling Castle's just about to jump into the shower.

She gulps, trying not to imagine Castle's wet, soapy body, but after this morning's incident, it's all she can think about. Her mind has been conjuring images of him covered in nothing but a towel all day, and now that he's only one door away from her, she's finding it hard to stop herself from walking in there and joining him.

Frustrated, she runs her fingers through her hair, trying to rid herself of these feelings building up inside her, because this is _Castle_. There's no way she can go there with him.

Except…

Can she?

He's made it perfectly clear since day one that he's interested in her, and if today proves anything it's that's he's not just interested in sex. He saved her life, twice. Offered his home to her when she has none. Fixed her father's watch, just because he knows how much it means to her. He's come so far from the playboy she met almost two years ago.

And after a day like today, she just needs to… let go. Have a little fun, and blow off some steam.

With not nearly enough alcohol buzzing through her veins to justify her actions, Beckett gives in, moving straight across the room. When she reaches the bathroom door though, she freezes. Panic seizes up her chest as conflicting doubts cross her mind, thoughts of both what if the door is locked because he's only joking, and what if it _isn't_.

Gripping the handle underneath her fingers, she slowly turns the lock, and-

It's open. No turning back now.

Beckett enters slowly, the steam already billowing around her, and her eyes are immediately drawn to him.

He's standing with her back to her, but she can see his hazy outline through the foggy glass door. Unable to look away, Beckett simply stands there and watches for a moment. Taking all of him in, she studies his broad shoulders, the contours of his back, notes the way he moves underneath the spray of the hot water.

Suddenly, he stretches out a hand behind him as he reaches for a bottle. He doesn't spot her, though, not quite turning around as he lathers the conditioner into his hair. Realising she's going to miss her chance if she doesn't hurry, Beckett quickly undoes her blouse, shrugging it off her shoulders and throwing into on the floor beside Castle's crumpled clothes. She shimmies out of her pants, discards her undergarments, and pulls open the shower door to slip in beside Castle.

He reacts instantly to her presence, spinning around to face her, a gasp escaping his lips as his eyes roam unashamedly over her naked body. "Beckett," he squeaks. "What are you-"

She cut him off with her lips fierce on his. Her fingers splay out across his chest, nails digging into his skin before she pushes him backwards. He hits the wall with an _oomph_, but she doesn't give him time to pause, already moulding her body to his because she can't quite get enough of his bare skin against hers.

All too soon, he's breaking away from her, his hands gentle as they grip her shoulders and ease her back. Before the rejection can overwhelm her, his eyes are raking over her body, arousal swimming in them as he takes in the sight of her, here with him, in his _shower_.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Castle's eyes slowly trail back up to meet hers longingly. "Kate…" he whispers disbelief.

They fall silent, nothing but their heavy breaths and the sound of the spray as it hits the floor. Castle stares at her intently, eyes boring into hers as if he's trying to figure out if this is _real_, so she doesn't look away. Instead, she stares back at him, waiting patiently until he finally raises his fingers to hook under her chin, tilt her face upwards to his, and reclaim her lips.

Beckett can't stop the moan that reverberates low in her throat, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls. Before she knows what's happening, Castle is flipping them around, his body crushing into hers. The tiles are cold against her bare back, but the rest of her is burning under Castle's touch.

The dam's been broken. It's hard and fast as neither of them hold back, unable to tear themselves away from the other. Her legs give way beneath her, but Castle's already hoisting her up against the wall and pinning her there with his body. His lips break from hers only to trail down her neck, his tongue sweeping over her. Her fingers dig into his shoulders, nails leaving angry marks, and her head drops back against the wall.

"Castle," she gasps as his fingers skirt over her. "Castle, _please_."

Finally, he stops teasing, and gives her everything she wants.


	7. 2x14 The Third Man

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**2x14 The Third Man**

* * *

_What if… Lanie had set Beckett up on a _blind_ date?_

* * *

Beckett steps through the morgue doors slowly, mentally questioning what she's about to do.

After everything that's happened with Castle today, she's been unable to shake the feeling of… resentment? Loneliness? _Jealousy_? Whatever it is, it's still niggling at her insides hours later. As ridiculous as it sounds, she feels like she has something to prove to Castle. Show him that she actually has a life outside the precinct.

She's almost embarrassed that she has to have a friend set her up. She can remember a time not too long ago when she's just hit a party and have half a dozen phone numbers within the hour. But now, there's nothing.

"I have no life."

Lanie doesn't even look up. "No, Mister Bishop has no life. That's why he's on my table."

Beckett takes a hesitant step forward, another moments pause, before she finally speaks. "I need a date."

Lanie looks up at her then. "What?"

"A date. A guy, a… man." Lanie tilts her head curiously, and Beckett can see the cogwheels turning in her friend's mind, obviously wondering what's gotten into her. After all, she's always turning down Lanie's suggestions for double dates. "You're always trying to set me up with people, so here I am. I'm game- what have you got?"

Lanie smiles, amused. "Okayyy… what's gotten into you?"

Beckett rolls her head back and shrugs. "I get so wrapped up in work, all I want to do is go home where it's quite, and I'm so tired of quiet. I want… _loud_."

"Okay. I can work with that. And, I've got the perfect man for you."

"Yeah?" Beckett asks, small trace of surprise and hopefulness to her voice.

Lanie nods, a smile playing on her lips. "Leave it to me. I'll set you up, and let you know when and where to meet him."

Beckett raises an eyebrow, waiting for her friend to continue, but she doesn't, instead just sitting there with the almost mischievous smile on her face. "You aren't going to tell me anything about him?"

Lanie shakes her head. "Nope. There isn't enough mystery in this world, so you'll find out when you arrive at the restaurant tomorrow night," Lanie responds cryptically.

"I'm a homicide detective," Beckett says on a snort. "Mysteries are all I deal with."

Lanie shrugs as if to say _not my problem_ and mimes zipping her lips shut.

Beckett sighs. "Lanie, I don't know. I mean, really- a blind date? There are a million different things that could go wrong."

"Stop overthinking this, girl," Lanie exclaims suddenly, her hands slapping down onto the table between them. "Just trust me, would you? This guys is _perfect_ for you."

Beckett digs her teeth into her lower lip hesitantly. "You're sure on this?"

Lanie nods, a sure grin on her face. "You can thank me at your wedding."

* * *

Lanie whips out her phone the moment her friend leaves the morgue, excitement buzzing through her veins at the thought of what she's doing.

She can't believe she didn't think to do this sooner. This really is genius.

The line clicks on suddenly, and Lanie has to try and wipe the smile off her face to keep the mischievous out of her voice. "Hey, bachelor number nine," she draws out in a sing-song voice. "How's it going?"

Castle's tone is all panic when he responds, and Lanie can just picture him cringing on the other end of the line. "What did Beckett say? Because I really didn't do anything, I swear."

Lanie covers the mouthpiece as she chuckles, amused at the conclusion he's reached so quickly. "Relax, Castle. I'm just calling because I have a friend who is _very_ interested in meeting you."

"Oh, really?" he asks, his tone suddenly high with intrigue.

"Mmm hmm. How's tomorrow night for you?"

Castle pauses. "Oh. Well, not that I don't… uh, appreciate the offer, Lanie, but I already have a date then."

"Cancel it," she orders without hesitation.

He's obviously taken back, because it's a moment too long before he responds. "I'm sorry?"

"Cancel the date, Castle," she says sternly, almost a low warning growl to her voice. "You are _not_ going to want to miss out on this."

Castle sighs. "Lanie, look-"

"Just trust me on this, would you? She's absolutely _perfect_ for you. So I don't care what plans you have, with whatever celebrity, you're going to cancel on her and meet your future wife."

Castle snorts. "Future wife? Really, Lanie? You're awfully confident this is going to work out."

"Oh, I _know_ it's going to work out. You can thank me for setting the both of you up in your wedding toast."

"Fine, Lanie," he concedes. "You can relax. You've convinced me. Tell me more about her."

"Nope. You can meet her tomorrow night."

"You're setting me up on a _blind_ date?" Castle groans. "Come on, Lanie. Be honest- what's wrong with her?"

"You're overreacting. She's perfect, and the two of you together will be perfect. You organise a time and a place and I'll let her know," Lanie states, clicking off the line before Castle had a chance to protest any further.

She smiles to herself as she peels the rubber gloves off her hand and tosses them into the trash.

Who says meddling never works out?

* * *

Despite leaving the precinct in somewhat of a rush, Beckett's a little early when she arrives at _Drago_. She wanders through the door, eyes drifting around the restaurant, taking in the high ceilings and the embroidered tablecloths and the overpriced champagne bottles flying by in the hands of waiters.

When she speaks to the Maître D' and finds out her mystery man hasn't yet arrived, she saunters over to the bar and orders a glass of red while she waits. No point sitting at the table and looking a little too eager.

She's barely taken a sip when a voice sounds out loud and surprised behind her.

"Beckett?"

She doesn't even need to spin around to tell who it is.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" she snaps at Castle, a crease immediately appearing on her forehead between her eyebrows.

He holds up his hands defensively, eyebrows high with surprise. "I didn't know you'd be here! Lanie-"

Oh.

They reach the conclusion at the same time, their faces falling as they stare at each other.

Lanie's set them up on a blind date with _each other_.

Beckett grinds her teeth together, a growl low in her throat. That manipulative, meddling, and completely mischievous woman is _dead_. In front of her, Castle's eyes are bugging out of their sockets as he flounders like a fish out of water, trying to come up with something- anything- to say that will make this better and completely not awkward like it already is.

But there's nothing that he can say, because the only thing running through Beckett's head right now is Lanie's comment.

_You can thank me at your wedding_.

Her face turning red, she slides off the barstool, praying that Lanie didn't have the balls to make a comment like that to Castle. She would have, though. This is _Lanie_, and she can see Castle's mind racing through his eyes, obviously recounting whatever wedding day story Lanie said to him.

Beckett's just about to brush by him when his fingers enclose around her upper arm.

"Stay."

She snorts. Like she's going to actually going to go through with this date.

"Oh, come on, Beckett," he continues when she does nothing but roll her eyes. "We're here. We're dressed up. Our table is ready. The wine is already ordered. We might as well enjoy the evening."

"No, but thank you. It's… I have to start early, tomorrow. Catch up on what I'm missing tonight."

His fingers tighten before she can take another step away, eyes pleading with her. "Beckett, it's just dinner. Please. As a way of saying… thankyou, I guess. For everything you've done."

Beckett clenches her jaw, ready to put up a fight, but when Castle's entire face morphs into a classic puppy-dog look, her heart melts. So she surrenders with a light sigh. "Alright, Castle. But if you tell anyone about this, you're _dead_. Understand?"

He nods sheepishly.

Good.

* * *

Beckett has to give it to him- he'd played the perfect gentleman tonight. He'd pulled out her chair, payed for their meals, didn't so much as slip his gaze from her face all evening.

With their full stomachs and wine buzzing through them, they were currently strolling back through the Manhattan streets, walking off their dinner as they chatted lightly. As much as she doesn't want to admit it, she's enjoying their evening together. The stories, the laughter, the banter, it's all quite… wonderful, actually.

Then they're at her building all too soon, peering up at the concrete structure as they stand at the base of the stairs. Beckett bites her lip nervously, wondering how to thank him for the evening without giving him the idea it's going to happen again.

He's speaking before she has a chance. "You know," Castle starts off slowly, "When a gentleman walks you to your door, it's polite to give him a goodnight kiss."

She snorts. "Sure. Want me to slip in a little tongue while I'm at it?"

"I'm game if you are."

His tone is light and teasing, but his eyes completely serious. She drops her gaze, tugging her coat a little tighter around her as a distraction.

"Castle…" she warns him playfully, but he interrupts her swiftly.

"I get it, okay?" He tries to remain serious, but she can hear the flirtatious undercurrent lacing his voice. "I do. You're… a little shy. So, I'll just close my eyes and wait until you're ready."

Beckett chuckles at the sight before her. He is Castle, standing by her front steps after a pleasant evening out, eyes closed and lips almost pursed as he waits for her to kiss her. She lets out a quite chuckle, shaking her head at his antics, until she realises he isn't going to move until she either pinches him or slaps him or-

Kisses him.

She presses her lips into a small line across her face. Could she? Kiss him?

No. They work together.

But then-

She does.

Ever so slowly, she leans towards him, her eyes slipping shut just at the last moment before she presses a kiss to his lips that's so soft it will leave him wondering whether it really happened.

Then she pulls away, her face tender as she watches his eyes flutter open.

"Good night, Castle," she smiles at him before turning up her front steps.

* * *

Castle stands frozen on her sidewalk long after Beckett disappears inside.

She just kissed him.

Beckett actually kissed him.

When he finally manages to blink and peel himself away from her building, he can't stop the smile from taking over his face.

There's hope yet.


	8. 4x16 Linchpin

**A/N:** Many apologies for the extended delay. Hectic exams & crazy real-life events meant this story took a backseat as it has no real plot to follow. But let's try for once a week updates, shall we?

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**4x16 Linchpin**

* * *

_What if… Beckett didn't take Castle's offering of coffee on the docks?_

* * *

"I guess the good thing about having your daughter at crime scenes is she can bring you dry clothes."

Castle sports a half-smile on his face as he approaches where she stands alone by the edge of the dock, tries to lighten the mood by cracking a joke. It's a defence mechanism. Humour. He uses it every time the situation turns too serious, when things become a little too real. It was one of the things that bothered her at first, when she thought it was a lack of care on his part. It took over a year before she saw his joking for what it really was: a way to cope. A way to bury the anxiety that burned through his veins and just keep pushing on. Slowly, his jokes began to ease the knot in her stomach. Then, they brought a smile to her face. Now, Beckett lets the laugh bubble easily off her lips, lets Castle's words help her through the day.

But not tonight.

In the light of day, when Castle had first pulled her from the river's murky depths, Beckett had felt… not steady. No. She'd been more than a little shaken with the realisation of just how close she'd come to not making it. Yet she kept herself composed, kept her emotions collected. Acted as if she could just put the brush with death behind her. Move on, continue with her job. Now, though, in the dark of the night, everything hits her suddenly. The water in front of her is a deep black, swallowing up everything it holds, a too-real reminder of the day's events.

"Kate?"

Castle's voice breaks Beckett from her thoughts. She blinks, the world around her coming back into focus. He's standing before her, a cup of outstretched coffee in his hand. She studies the takeaway cup for a long moment, but she can't bring herself to reach for it. She needs it. The caffeine, the energy burning through her veins, the jolt to keep her awake- she needs it. She's long past exhausted, she nearly _drowned_, she-

She nearly drowned.

* * *

"I was alone."

Her whisper cuts through the night, heard by Castle even above the whirl of the sirens and the chatter of the NYPD behind them. There's no recognition in his eyes, though. Just confusion mixed with too much concern, his gaze piercing and never wavering as he studies every line of her face for some sort of tell.

"I was alone," she repeats. "In the car. Under the water. You-"

Beckett breaks off, angles her head to stare out at the water once again. She takes a long moment of much needed silence and wills herself not to break. She draws in a long breath that's anything but soothing and gathers her quickly scattering emotions before continuing in a broken voice she can't help.

"I thought you died."

At her words, Castle tenses. "I didn't die," he tells her. His voice is smooth and reassuring, eases the knot in her stomach, but then the overwhelming sickness that _he nearly died_ bubbles up once again. Beckett doubles over, clutches at her sides as they stitch. Her lungs heave as she gasps for air that won't come, won't ease the muscles seizing in her chest.

"I thought you died," she rasps. "And I thought I was going to die. But this time- _God_, Castle. I was alone. So alone. And all I wanted- all I wanted was for you to be there with me again. Like-"

Like the last time she teetered on the brink of death.

Like the day she was shot.

The day they've never talked about.

Castle blinks only once before Beckett turns her head away, too much of a coward to match his gaze. Just like she always is when it comes to her heart.

"You lied." It's not a question, but a statement. Castle's voice is deep and harsh, a hot knife of her betrayal to her heart.

He knows.

It's a long moment before Beckett finally angles her head to look at him, keeps her eyes focused on the dock beneath their feet until the last moment, when she finally peers up at him from under her lashes. His eyes are stones, no longer compassionate. Nothing but hurt and betrayal and a blood red _anger_ flashes through them.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Disappointment in herself surges through her. The knowledge she has caused Castle pain- _is_ causing Castle pain- clenches her heart, twists it painfully until the point she thinks it just might break. And she doesn't know what to say to make everything better. She's never been good with words. That's _his_ forte.

Instead, she reaches for him with a shaky hand. A gesture that she's here for him. Castle refuses it. He takes a step back and shakes his head, at her movement or just in disbelief she doesn't know. Beckett digs her front tooth into her lower lip, so hard it almost pierces the skin.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out again.

He turns away then, stares out at the water just as she'd been doing minutes before. His eyes keep falling to the ground, though, as if he's unable to keep them up with the weight of her lies bearing down on him. His mouth parts into a small _o_, and then he's finally turning back to her, eyes so intense and piercing. And then she hears his voice, so completely raw, the words half-choking in his throat so the question barely makes it past his lips.

"Why?"

Ashamed at her actions, Beckett drops her eyes.

"No," Castle growls suddenly. "I want you to look at me. I want you to look at me and tell me _why you lied_."

There's a voice in her head that tells her not to listen, not to look at him. That insists this isn't the place- at a crime scene, in front of her colleagues- to have this conversation. That insists she make up some excuse, run while she still can.

For the first time, Beckett ignores that voice and matches Castle's stare.

"Because I was broken," she whispers. "Literally _broken_, Castle. I had a_ bullet_ in my _chest_, and _that's_ when you decide to tell me you love me?"

The shock of her admission that sends her own heart pounding doesn't even faze Castle. "Don't turn this around on me," he growls.

"I'm not trying to," she pleads with him. "Just- can't you understand? My entire life had suddenly shifted around me. I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have just told me you weren't ready!" Castle exclaims. "I would have waited. You could have just told me you weren't ready, or-"

He doesn't continue.

"Or what?" she encourages in a soft voice.

There's a beat before his whisper cuts right to her core. "Or told me you didn't feel the same way."

That he could even believe she doesn't return his feelings hits her harder than she could have ever imagined. It's as if a burning arrow has pierced her heart, left her doubling over and gasping for air. She wants to crumble- _God_, she wants to crumble into a heap and just let the pain overwhelm her- but they're at a God damned crime scene. She can't do anything but try and stuff everything she's feeling into an already overflowing box and wait until she's in the privacy of her own home to lick her wounds.

"Is that really what you think?" she chokes out. "After _everything_ we've been through, after _four years_, do you really think I don't-"

She can't finish, can't bring herself to say the words. Not if Castle is going to walk out of here without a second-glance back.

He levels a glare at her, demanding she continue, but in the end neither a given a chance to peak. In the next moment, Esposito- ever the master of timing and subtly- interrupts with a too casual _so_. Beckett blinks, the world slowly coming back into focus around her.

Work. Right.

Beckett turns to Castle, sends him a silent apology. "We-" she cuts herself off.

She doesn't know if there's still a _we_. If they're still _them_.

"There's a job to be done," she says instead.

Castle drops his head in disappointment, and she swears hears a mutter of _typical_ under his breath. She reaches for him, brushes the back of his hand gently to gain his attention, laces just the tips of their fingers together in a promise.

"Later?" she begs.

It's a long beat before Castle finally nods in response. "Later."

Later.

* * *

Later turns out to be that night.

After an unsuccessful visit to the morgue, Beckett decides it's enough for the day. It's late, long past midnight and into the early hours of the morning. The team is worn out- _she's_ worn out. She nearly died. Castle nearly died. And she's just-

She's just so tired of fighting what is right in front of her.

Even so, when they find themselves standing on the sidewalk and about to part ways, Beckett doesn't bring it up. He's tired. He nearly died. Nearly drowned, in a sinking car. She _did_ drown, and he had to carry her limp body to the surface, heave her up on the docks and bring her back.

And then he found out how she betrayed him.

It's all so much to process. After everything else she's put him through, she can't ask him to talk about the idea of _them_. Not tonight. Not until she gives him a chance to settle everything else down. So Beckett ignores every longing fibre in her body that screams to _go to him_ and instead remains frozen on the bottom step outside the morgue.

Beckett angles her body to face Castle front-on from where she stands, but he turns himself away, keeps a shield up in defence. She sighs but doesn't lower her gaze. Just watches as he flags down a passing cab, holds the door open for Alexis to scoot through to the other side.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she calls out to him. Hope that she can't hold back laces her question, echoes the bubble of it in her heart.

Castle shakes his head, and for the longest moment her heart tears in two. Everything around her shatters and crashes down in an overwhelming wave on top of her. Then he sees his mistake, and shakes his head again to take it back.

"No. I- now, Kate," he tells her. "We need to talk. Now."

Beckett bites her lip, eyes darting away on habit before she forces them back to his. "Look, Castle, after today… if you don't want to-"

"You said we'd talk," he says stubbornly. His eyes are unwavering, pierce her own. Staring into them, she's unable to do anything but nod.

His eyes shift to where Alexis sits in the cab before meeting hers once again. "My place?" he offers. "To- talk?"

She nods.

They're ready to talk.

Finally.

* * *

Beckett doesn't say anything in the cab ride. It's hard not to, though. On one hand, she wants to begin defending herself to Castle- tell him just how sorry she is, explain why she kept her memory of that day a secret- but Alexis sits on Castle's opposite side, extinguishing any plans of conversing. On the other hand, she feels she owes the young redhead an explanation, her sharp eyes silently scrutinising her father and Beckett the entire ride to the loft.

She doesn't speak in the elevator, either. Nor when Alexis retreats for the night and it's just the two of them. Even though the words are burning on her tongue, threatening to spill from her lips at any moment, Beckett keeps a tight clamp on them. There's a look on Castle's face that demands for her patience, and so she waits him out.

Eventually, he arches a casual eyebrow at her. "Do you want a shower?"

Beckett blinks. "I'm sorry?"

"A shower," Castle repeats quietly. "You were in wet clothes longer than I was."

She opens her mouth to say _no_, tell him she's here to talk, but the thought of a steaming shower working out every knotted muscle in her body is just to enticing to refuse. "Are you sure?" she double-checks all the same.

He nods. "Yeah. Another few minutes won't hurt."

She shoots him a polite smile. "All right. Thanks."

Castle half-turns away then and heads for his bedroom. "Alexis will be using the upstairs bathroom, so you can use mine," he offers, motioning for her to follow.

His bathroom. Through his bedroom.

Yeah. This is not a good idea.

She follows all the same though, the waving of Castle's hand insistent. In the runners she'd changed into at the precinct, her footsteps are soft as she follows like a silent ghost. No point in starting a conversation if it's not one they plan on finishing right away.

They're already halfway into his bedroom when Castle startles. He jerks back with a small jump in the air, almost tumbling into her at the motion. In confusion, she lifts her gaze from the floor in search of whatever startled Castle-

Only to find his ex-girlfriend sitting quite comfortably on the edge of his bed, an all too innocent smile plastered on her face and her eyelids batting wildly in an attempt to charm. And _God_- the sight of another woman on his bed is not a sight she wants to see. The jealousy pricks at her heart, stomach dipping low inside her as a wave of nausea crashes over her.

But she can't protest. It's not her place. She made _sure_ it wasn't her place when she lied to him all those months ago. The full weight of her lies bears down on her suddenly, and it takes all her effort to just keep upright as Sophia smiles brazenly.

"My apologies, Rick," the woman says slowly, eyes taking in Beckett's presence. "I didn't realise you'd have company."

Beckett's eyes leave Sophia and slide to Castle's. He's staring wide-eyed and absolutely panicked at his ex, mouth gaping as he fumbles to say something, _anything_.

"I-" He chokes off, whips his head around to where Beckett is standing behind him. "I don't know what she's doing here."

"Oh, I think we all know why she's here," she throws back at him. Beckett crosses her arms over her chest, shifts her stance to give her posture an edge. For good measure, she arches an eyebrow at him that demands an explanation.

Castle shakes his head in denial of her accusation and growls at Sophia. "_What _are you doing here?"

The C.I.A. agent lets out an amused chuckle. "Relax, Rick. I'm only here to give you this." Rising from her perch on the edge of the bed, she reaches into her blouse and pulls out a folded sheet of paper.

Carefully, as if he doesn't quite trust her, Castle extends a hand out and plucks the white square from her hand. "What's this?"

"Blakely's account information," Sophia explains. "But since Blakely was a U.S. citizen-"

"You're prohibited from looking into it," Castle finishes with a nod from Sophia.

"Why are you giving this to me?" Castle questions. "We're off the case, remember? You made sure of that."

Sophia shoots him a knowing look. "Rick, please. I know you're going after Gage," she tells them, eyes shifting between the two before finally settling on Castle. "You always have to know how the story ends."

The woman doesn't say another word. Just presses the Derek Storm graphic novel she'd been browsing through against Castle's chest until he takes hold of it, then slips by the both of them with nothing more than a sly glance.

The moment Beckett hears the soft click of the front door signal Sophia's exit she arches a questioning eyebrow at Castle. "She made herself quite at home," she comments, trying to keep her tone light and free of jealousy. "Certainly knew her way around."

Castle's eyes widen at her insinuation, his head shaking furiously in denial. "I didn't know she'd be here," he swears. "I-"

Beckett lifts a pausing hand to stop him from digging a deeper hole. She'll admit that finding his ex-girlfriend and ex-muse sitting all too comfortably in his bedroom was definitely _not_ how she'd expected tonight to go, but at least it appears Castle is as shocked as she is. Although she can't even imagine what would have happened if she hadn't been here, the sight of Sophia sitting so comfortably on his bed still nauseating though she's gone.

All the same, she doesn't comment any further on it. After all the lies she's told, she has no right making him feel any worse.

Instead, she nods toward the closed door in the corner behind him. "That your bathroom?"

* * *

They save the little girl's life. They close the case. Everything else- discussions with their team, the mountain of paperwork that has taken over her desk- it can all wait until Monday. Right now, all she wants to do is head out for the night.

They leave the conference room after Danberg and head for the back staircase. Still on a high from solving the case, she can't help herself from nudging against him as they walk side-by-side. Castle angles his head toward her, returns her playful gesture with two bright baby blues and a genuine smile. At that, Beckett feels her own lips curl up, unable to contain the joyfulness bubbling softly inside her chest.

Lies and ex-muses now behind them, they're going to be all right.


	9. 3x21 The Dead Pool

**A/N:** First, apologies. This was supposed to be up days ago, and I completely forgot to upload it.

This one starts off from the scene with Esposito's sneaky muffin steal. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go here - kellisworld . tumblr . com (SLASH) post (SLASH) 29044677550 (SLASH) marinebertheau-jon-huertas-just-perfect-this - for a refresher (or even if you do I suggest you click the link anyway, because his face is absolutely _priceless_).

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**3x21 The Dead Pool**

* * *

_What if… Castle didn't follow Beckett on the sidewalk?_

* * *

He'd spent the night sulking like an immature child, holed up in his office away from the judgemental eyes of his family. The laptop screen had been open in front of him, but the glass full of scotch had held a much greater appeal. He couldn't even bring himself to double-click on the latest chapter of Heat Wave, Nikki's name a reminder of exactly where her inspiration is right at that moment. Out with another writer.

Petty, yes, but it isn't something he can help.

Even so, Castle plasters a neutral face on as he walks into the precinct the following morning. He doesn't say anything to Beckett at first, just passes her one of the usual two Grande-sized coffees in his hands and memorises the sweet smile that curls up on her lips.

Oblivious to the jealousy pricking inside him she dives right into the case, catching him up on their latest lead. Castle nods along as he settles himself in the precinct, folding his jacket over the back of his chair that sits permanently beside her desk. Esposito walks by in the next moment, offering to follow up on the lead. Castle thinks it's the first time he's ever seen one of the boys _offering_ to do grunt work. It leaves him confused, wondering what the detective's play is.

That is, until Esposito paws at the muffin basket and walks away with a handful of mini muffins, his face perfectly schooled as if he's completely innocent.

Castle smirks as he studies the basket. Greedy fingers reach straight for the mini chocolate-chip muffin sitting on top. He holds it up in question, voice suddenly lit up with delight. "Muffins?"

Beckett hums. "Alex Conrad sent them to me," she explains.

The smile slips straight off his face. Likewise, the muffin falls from his grasp to tumble back onto the pile. "Alex," he repeats under his breath, something of contempt that he can't bite back reflecting in his voice.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion but Castle ignores the silent question on her face, instead reaching for the note spiked through a different muffin.

"'Thanks for last night'," he reads Alex's neat scrawl aloud. "I guess you two got together last night."

"Yeah. We talked about procedure." With a smile on her face she reclines back in her chair, stretches her arms out behind her head.

The sudden exposed view of her chest goes anything but unnoticed by Castle, but the petty selfishness that she's supposed to be _his_ muse still eats at his heart. He tries to shrug it off, play Beckett and Conrad's night as no big deal. "Oh, so- nothing special," he throws out casually.

As casual as he can be when his mentee is trying to steal _his_ muse.

"Oh, I don't know," she sings out. "Said he was going to use it all for his next book. Said next time he wants to talk about cases."

He thanks God he hadn't yet taken a sip from the coffee cup that's just about reached his lips, because he's sure it would have been sprayed everywhere in surprise. "Next time?" he can't help but question.

She quirks an eyebrow and levels a look at him, but it doesn't faze Castle. He just keeps staring at her with a surely crestfallen expression on his face that he can't seem to mask.

But then Ryan is interrupting and Beckett drops his gaze, her attention shifting off him to focus once again on their case.

Always something else.

* * *

They're walking side by side on the pavement not a half-hour later when she lets out a chuckle to his bad joke. "Oh, it wasn't that funny," he shrugs her laughter off.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry, I just got a message."

His body stills slightly, the wave of his arms as he walks lost, face now lacking a smile. "From who? Conrad?"

She turns to him, her face straight but eyes guilty.

"It is, isn't it?" he continues. "What did he say?"

Without giving her a chance to explain, Castle leans in close to peer over her shoulder and nosily glance at her phone. Beckett pulls it away secretively before he can read anything.

"Nothing," she is all she tells him. "He just wants to know what time we can meet up tonight."

He scrunches his face. "And that made you laugh?"

Beckett pauses in the middle of the sidewalk, forces him to stop and turn back around as he waits for an answer.

"Yeah," she says with a slight shrug of her shoulders, voice light as she talks about the other writer. "He's funny."

And then she walks right on by him-

-but for the first time, he doesn't follow.

Castle just stands there with a scowl on his crestfallen face, staring absently back in the direction they've just travelled from.

Conrad's funny.

He scoffs. _He's_ funny.

But she never tells him that. Just rolls her eyes at his jokes, or gives his shoulder a light but discouraging shove.

There's an odd jealousy that flips over in his stomach. A crumbling selfish possessiveness that's she's supposed to be his. A sudden heavy crash of a fear that she just _doesn't want him here_. Doesn't want him following her around; has _never_ wanted him following her around.

An embarrassment for the last three years heats his cheeks. Has he just been kidding himself? Tricking himself into thinking she actually _wants_ him here, when all she's really done is grown used to him because she can't kick him out?

He just- he thought-

Castle shakes his head. He thought wrong.

Right now, he feels such a fool.

It's a long minute of sulking later before he feels the light tap of her finger on his shoulder and her head cocked worriedly to the side as she circles back around him. "Is there a problem?" Beckett asks softly.

Castle schools his face (poorly, he's sure) and presses his lips into a tight line. "No. No problem. Why would there be a problem?"

She sighs heavily, rests a demanding hand on her hip. "All right. What's going on?"

"I already told you, noth-"

"Don't say nothing," she interrupts. "Castle, I thought Conrad was your friend?"

He pauses. "He- is," he stutters unconvincingly.

"So then why does your face fall every time I mention his name?"

He doesn't know why, but some combination of jealousy and the lack of appreciation hit him hard, and everything he's kept inside for three long years comes tumbling out.

"Because you go on about how funny he is," he cries out as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And you laugh at his jokes and volunteer all this information to him when all you've ever given me is a hard time. For God's sake, Beckett, I had to get the Mayor- the goddamned _Mayor_- to phone Montgomery just so I could hang around you. You've grumbled and you've scowled at my presence, barely given me the time of day when I've been right here for three years, just _begging_ to learn from you- begging to learn more _about_ you."

Castle cuts off his rant suddenly. He's said too much. So much he should have just kept to himself as he walked away with his tail between his legs. And judging Beckett's reaction, that's exactly what he _should_ do.

Her mouth has fallen open in surprise, a small _o_ that opens and closes as she fumbles for something- anything- to say to response to his sudden outburst. Her eyes are wide, caught with surprise. Castle drops his own eyes, embarrassed at the uncomfortable air he's settled around them.

"I'm sorry. I just-" He sighs heavily, runs a hand through a hair, not caring he leaves it dishevelled. "I think it's best I head home. Clear my head, give you space."

He's all but turned to raise an arm and flag down a passing taxi when her fingers enclose around his wrist. He turns back with an angled head but her eyes are low, refusing to meet his even as she speaks.

"Castle, in case you hadn't noticed, Conrad isn't here." Her voice is quiet, laced with an apology he doesn't deserve. "He's not here, but that's not for lack of trying on his part."

His forehead creases. "I don't understand," he says slowly.

"I wouldn't let him tag along with us," she continues, voice still smaller than he's ever heard it. "He asked, though. A _lot_, but- I already have a writer I'm rather fond of."

Castle stills, her words rushing hot through his ears, stopping his heart before it takes off on a thundering beat.

It's only then does she finally lift her eyes to meet his. "He's not my partner, Castle. _You_ are. He's not the one I-"

She doesn't continue. Just digs a harsh, hesitant tooth into her lip until it fades to a pale white.

"You what?" he encourages.

She exhales a weighty breath, something of a small smile playing on her lips as if she's suddenly free. "He's not the one I want to break up with my boyfriend over because I can't stop thinking about one kiss that happened months ago."

Oh.

There's a long beat of silence after that. Neither know quite what to say to her sudden admission. It isn't until the people bustling on the sidewalk around them shove against his side is Castle finally broken from the spell she's cast over him.

"Technically it was two kisses," he throws out to lighten the mood.

Even as she rolls her eyes, a crack of laughter bursts out from within as she ducks her head to hide the light blush prickling her cheeks.

"So… you think you can put whatever this petty jealousy thing is behind you? Because we have a suspect to talk with before he catches wind we're coming and bolts."

He wants to say no. He wants to kiss her. He wants to tell her to screw the precinct, and take her home instead. He wants to tell her just how much he loves her- because he does. So goddamned much, for so goddamned long.

But he doesn't. This- her, _their_- sudden honesty is enough to tide him over for now.

He can wait a little longer for the rest.

* * *

Castle sneaks another glance at his wristwatch, sees the hands ticking just past seven. His eyebrows knit together ever so slightly as he considers the time.

He needs to duck out, and soon. Lehane and Connelly should be at his place by eight for poker night, and he's still got to stop for a quick bite to eat on the way home.

But on the other side of the coin is Beckett and everything they need to resolve after today's conversation. They may have been open and honest for a change but the afternoon has been awkward, full of cautious glances and awkward shy-aways, neither knowing quite where they stand with the other. He hates it, so much. They _need_ to talk but he doesn't have time. Not now. It's the last night the boys are in town and he'd organised this long before Conrad shook things up and they would_ never_ let him live it down if he cancelled on them now.

With another quick glance down at his wrist, Castle grits his teeth together. He has to go. _God_, he doesn't want to, but he has to. With a heavy sigh in his chest, he lifts his head to apologise to Beckett, only to find himself face-to-face with Conrad.

Wait- Conrad?

The other writer nods at Castle before smiling at Beckett. "Hey, Kate."

She returns his smile with one of her own all too happily. "Hey. You ready?"

Conrad nods. "Yeah, but I'm happy to wait around for a bit if-"

"No, no." Beckett shakes her head. "I'm pretty sure she's ready. Just give me one minute to grab her."

Her?

Beckett is already walking away by the time Castle blinks. Without so much as an apologetic glance at Conrad for ditching him in the middle of the precinct, Castle sprints after Beckett to catch her by the elbow just as she's pushing into the locker room.

She arches a questioning eyebrow at him. "Something I can help you with?"

"Who's '_she_'?" The way he all but demands the answer from her is so completely blunt, but he's too curious and confused to care.

Beckett chuckles breathily. "Stegner. While you were out grabbing lunch I was chatting with her in the break room. One thing led to another and… I don't know." She shrugs casually. "I guess I felt bad for cancelling on Conrad with no explanation, so I thought it would be fun to set them up."

He pauses for a beat. "You cancelled on him?"

She offers him a timid nod. "Yeah," she breathes out slowly. "I thought it would be for the best."

He can't do anything but stare at her, completely enamoured with every single inch of her. "Kate…" he starts off, but she cuts him off by reaching for one of his hands and squeezing ever so gently.

"Just give me a sec to introduce the two?" she pleads softly. "And then we'll talk?"

"I can't," he blurts out without thinking.

Complete and utter rejection at his words spreads instantly across her face, ruining her every perfect feature with a sharp cut to his heart.

"I mean- poker," he stutters a weak explanation. "I'm supposed to be hosting poker night. Lehane and Connelly… I- I-"

She nods, relief smoothing her face. "It's okay," she tells him. "Yeah. Poker. You- you should go."

"Cancel," he blurts out again. "I- I'll cancel. I mean, Patterson's rich enough without taking my money, and I'm sure they'll be back in town soon, and-"

Beckett shakes her head. "No. Don't. It's all right."

His mouth falls open, the protest that of _course_ he can cancel when it's _her_ on the tip of his tongue, but then she's leaning in closer (_when_ did she get this close?) and biting her lip and peering up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "Give me a call once they've left?"

Her hand drops from his then, but doesn't fall to her side. Instead, her fingers brush along his jawline, sweeping tenderly across his skin until they cup his cheek. And then all too suddenly his head is spinning as she leans up to press the lightest of kisses to his lips.

"I'll see you soon," she whispers a hot promise against his lips.

Yes. Soon.


	10. 1x02 Nanny McDead

**A/N:** This is a bit of an odd one. I love this episode so much and just _had_ to do something for it, but I couldn't find a lot to work with. Enjoy.

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**1x02 Nanny McDead**

* * *

_What if… Beckett had been injured in the laundry room?_

* * *

They make it down to the basement in record time, Beckett's gun already drawn as he follows her past the crowd of onlookers and through to the laundry room.

She leaves him outside.

"You don't go in," she orders, a serious expression on her face as she holds him back with one hand. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," he responds automatically.

Castle watches her open the door just a fraction, eyes barely poking around the corner to sneak a glance into the room. "Chloe?" she calls out, voice soft so not to startle the young girl.

"Chloe, it's Detective Beckett," she continues. "Do you remember me?"

He can't see her from this angle, but the girl's response comes half-choked with a sob. "Please just go away."

Gun drawn at the ready Beckett slips into the room. She leaves the door open behind her, attention already fixated on Chloe as she creeps forward. Castle eyes the crack in the door, presses his lips together in consideration. It tempts him; he can't help it. He's curious by nature, always needingto know the whole story and nothing less. And if Beckett has already left it ajar, what's it hurt to open it a little further?

Having reasoned it in his mind Castle puts his body between the door and its frame. His feet slide forward inch by inch and he holds his breath as the scene finally begins to unfold in front of his own two eyes.

With careful steps the detective crosses the room toward Chloe, her gun unwavering as she keeps it levelled at the young girl. Castle holds his breath as his eyes fall from Beckett to land on the piercing knife in the girl's hand. She digs the blade into her thigh, cuts it along the length of her skin without even flinching. It's almost as if she's in some sort of trance where she hasn't quite realised what she's doing. It settles a heavy unease low in his stomach, because if Chloe doesn't know what she's doing, how is Beckett safe?

"Look, Chloe- you're hurt. Why don't you put the knife away and let me help you?"

Chloe sobs out a tormented laugh. "Why don't you just _shoot_ me?"

He swallows the knot rising high in his throat but doesn't turn away. His body just won't _listen_ to the voice inside his head, because even though he _knows_ he needs to back away and let Beckett do her job, he can't. It's just all so captivating and concerning at the same time. Beckett is hypnotic as she shifts one step at a time, a cross between this lethal force with a vice-like grip on her weapon and a motherly figure that reflects only compassion in her tone. So completely enthralled, Castle's eyes remain wide and unblinking as he watches her stalk toward Chloe. He just-

He needs to get just a little closer.

Unable to control himself Castle creeps forward, sliding further through the doorway. His fingers are still on the wood, carefully holding it in place so it doesn't creak as he moves through.

"Hey- look at me. _Look_," Beckett insists softly. "No one's going to shoot anyone, okay?"

Beckett is surrendering before he even realises what's happening. After raising both hands in the air she slowly lowers the gun to the ground. When the weapon hits the linoleum with a soft clunk she pauses for a moment, ensures Chloe remains steady on the bench in the centre of the room before she begins rising to stand straight once again.

Castle lets out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. Suddenly relaxed, he forgets to keep his hand on the door. The moment it snicks shut behind him-

Chloe lunges.

The sudden echo of the door closing startles her, her knife-wielding hand rising before he can realise what's happening. Beckett reaches for her gun but it's already discarded on the floor behind her. There isn't enough time before the knife is flying through the air, heading straight for Beckett with all the power of a scorned lover behind its sharp blade. She forgets her gun, raises her arms to fight Chloe off when the girl stumbles. She lets out a sharp cry as her weight pounds down on the leg she's cut and it gives way beneath her.

But the knife is still clenched tight in her hand, and it's all Beckett can do to brace herself as the girl flies forward and the blade slices right through her arm.

Castle's heart stops.

Oh, no.

"Kate-"

He doesn't have a chance to finish his sentence. The sharp scream has alerted the boys and they're already barrelling into the laundry room, knocking Castle out of the way as they run with fingers ready on the trigger toward Chloe. Their shouts to surrender startle her and she tries to back up, but there's nowhere to go. They force her to the ground and cuff her unsympathetically, holding her back while emergency services flood into the room and move straight for Beckett.

Beckett. Oh, god.

He wants to help- he _needs_ to help, because this is _his _fault-

But all he can do is stand frozen in the corner, the guilt flooding through him as he watches the blood seep through Beckett's coat.

* * *

The sky grows dark during the cab ride to the hospital, opening up just as he's stepping onto the sidewalk to pour down on him. He doesn't shake off the droplets, though. Just lets them cling miserably to him as he wanders through the hospital doors, making a pit stop at the gift shop to hand over a ridiculous amount of money for a bunch of deep purple and white hyacinths.

His head hangs low as he heads for the nurses station, voice quiet as he requests her room number. The nurse tells him she's just being stitched up in one of the exam rooms on the second floor. She points him in the direction of the stairwell and Castle nods, feet scuffing across the waiting room carpet as he heads for the staircase.

The room is down the corridor, curtains closed but door open a crack. Castle hovers outside for a moment, pausing as the soft murmurs of two voices float out to his ears.

"Katie-"

"Dad, don't. Don't worry. It's- I'm fine."

"If you were fine you'd be at home, not lying in a hospital bed with your arm stitched up from a knife wound."

Castle hears Beckett sigh heavily. "This is why I told them not to call you. You worry too much."

"I worry just enough about my only daughter who could have lost her life."

"It's a flesh wound, Dad. To my _arm_."

"You were stabbed, Katie. Just like-"

The man breaks off and both voices fall silent after that, but the final words from Beckett's father echo hauntingly in Castle's ears.

Stabbed. Like-

Is that what happened to Beckett's mother?

His stomach flips over, a sick unease gurgling deep inside. Castle sucks in a breath to settle his stomach and gives both himself and Beckett another minute before he raises a fist to knock quietly on the door.

When he pokes his head through the crack Castle finds Beckett already scowling at him, her legs thrown off the edge exam table and her stitched-up arm cradled gently in her lap. The man he assumes to be her father sits in the chair beside her with his eyebrows knit together worriedly, but a curious confusion spreads across his features as he eyes flick up to Castle.

"What do you want, Castle?" Beckett sighs.

He hovers by the doorway, unsure whether he should just walk in. "I, um- I was wondering if you have a moment to talk?"

Her father is standing before she has a chance to respond with the obvious _no_ that bubbles on her lips. "I'll give you two a moment," he tells his daughter before slipping quietly from the room.

Beckett turns her head away as Castle takes a step toward her. He lowers his head at the rejection but presses on until he's standing just a step away from her. "I bought these for you." He holds up the purple and white bouquet for her to take but her eyes only flick down to her injured arm.

Right.

Castle instead lays them on the exam bed beside her, careful not to squash the flowers on the underside. Once they're settled he takes a step back, eyes lowering to the floor, ashamed.

"I'm really sorry, Kate," he murmurs. "I- I'm sorry."

He hears her exhale a long sigh, but doesn't lift his eyes when she speaks up softly. "I know you think this is just some fun extended ride-along and that I'm just this boring cop who makes you wait outside, but it's not, Castle. This is serious. I didn't make you wait outside as some sort of punishment because you forced this tag-along on me. I wanted you to wait outside because Chloe wasn't in her right mind and you could have been injured, or worse."

His heart drops low in his chest. He should never have begun this.

"I won't follow you around anymore," he tells her quietly.

She pauses. "I'm sorry?"

"I won't tag along," he reiterates. "I- I shouldn't have called the Mayor and I shouldn't persuaded Montgomery to force you to have me around. I should have just respected you don't want me here."

There's a curious flicker in her eyes, something she can't quite let go. "So why did you?" she asks. "Why did you go above my head to my boss and convince him you need to do research?"

He remains quiet for a long moment, watching her as she sways slowly from side to side on the examination bed. He can see her eyes clouding over as the heavier painkillers begin to kick in, fuzzing her head and sending it high through the roof.

It's only because he knows she won't remember this tomorrow does he offer her the whole truth.

"Because I like you."

She startles at the raw honesty of his words, blinking a few times before staring at him with eyes wide as saucers. Even when she lowers them as if this is too much, Castle doesn't stop.

"Because I like you, Kate, but you didn't want to give me the time of day. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I thought if I followed you around for a while I might be able to wear you down."

There's a long pause after that. "You're right," she tells him. "That is ridiculous."

God, he feels like an idiot.

Then she exhales a light sigh, eyes fluttering shut as she fails to keep a level head. "But I do kind of like you too."

She-

What?

Castle sucks in a short gasp. "You-"

"Promise to obey me next time I give you an order?" she interrupts smoothly, popping one eye open to study him.

He nods once, blurts out his answer hastily. "Yes."

Her eye falls shut again. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."

A small smile on his face, Castle leans in to press a soft kiss to her cheek that's both apologetic and grateful.

His heart stops when her head turns at the last moment and his lips land firmly on hers.

Oh, yes. She's definitely going to see him tomorrow.

She'll see him every day until he makes this up to her.

She'll see him every day until he wears her down.


	11. 4x11 Till Death Do Us Part

**A/N:** Not really set as part of the episode, but something I hope you'll enjoy all the same. Written because while I completely understand why we didn't see more of Ryan & Jenny's wedding (it's a crime drama, after all), I have a feeling I'm not the only one who would have loved to have seen a little more all the same.

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**4x11 Till Death Do Us Part**

* * *

_What if… Alexis hadn't bailed as Castle's date?_

* * *

She arrives at the chapel a little early, the crowd light but a chatter already buzzing through the air. The January air cold outside, Beckett wanders in to stand in the warmth of the foyer. Standing awkwardly alone, her eyes scan the crowd in search of someone she recognises (no one in particular, she lies to herself).

He's not there.

She denies that her stomach curdles with disappointment.

Beckett strikes up a conversation with a Dan, a cop Ryan knows from back in Narcotics, and his wife. It's superficial talk but pleasant all the same, helps to fill in the time until she sees _him_ walk through the door.

And she can't deny that he looks _good_.

Clean shaven and dressed in a crisp white shirt that shows off his tan (where he got that living in the city, she doesn't know) with a contrasting black tux jacket thrown over the top, it's all she can do not to run to him with a smile on her face. He always cleans up nice, yes, having lost that scruffy look from when they'd first met a few years back. But some combination of being all dressed up and the wedding atmosphere has her stomach bubbling almost ridiculously at just the sight of him.

But then Alexis is whispering in his ear and pointing to the doors that lead inside the chapel, and he's moving on to take his seat without so much as a glance in her direction.

The bubbling stops, a heavy weight replacing it, and she turns back to her conversation. Maybe she'll catch him later.

Miss number one.

* * *

Beckett doesn't manage to slip away from Dan, not allowed a relief until the crowd outside is ushered in so the ceremony can begin. By the time she wanders in the rows of pews are already near full, the crowd present large in grand Irish Catholic tradition. It's because of this she can't help but note the row Castle and Alexis are sitting in has already filled up.

A voice in her head pipes up, a reminder that she's hear for Ryan- not Castle- not welcome as it chirps a little too loud. Yet she swallows the disappointment for a second time that afternoon and instead slides into a pew a few rows back. L.T. looks a little lost, after all. So she shoots him a polite smile and provides the company that looks to be needed.

The ceremony is just starting when she ducks her head to check her phone is switched to silent. It's also the exact moment Castle spins around in his seat in search of her, eyes wide at first but brimming with disappointment all too quickly when he can't spot her from behind the elderly lady with a disastrous perm.

Miss number two.

* * *

They're not at the same table.

The disappointment that's long settled in her stomach weighs a little heavier as she sees him taking his seat across the room. He's at a table with Esposito, and she's over here with Lanie.

It's definitely not what she was expecting. In all honesty, she wouldn't have put it past Ryan to have their nametags sickeningly cute and sitting side by side as they match (all an accident, she would have been sure). But no. Not today. Their friends had to have an anything but amicable break up that has left her and Castle seated across the ballroom.

Lanie throws her a silent apologetic look when she follows Beckett's eye line. She shrugs it off, pretends she wasn't staring longingly at Castle.

(She wasn't. Honest.)

Still, she can't help but fall a little too quiet as she takes her seat beside Lanie, pushing away the wish she were somewhere else.

Miss number three.

* * *

It's not until the main meals are cleared and they're free to roam around the ballroom does she finally get a chance to talk with him.

Castle is at the bar with Alexis, leaning against the wooden counter as they wait for their drinks. Ignoring the knowing look Lanie shoots her as she rises from the table, Beckett wanders straight for the bar (not for him, she swears) with a warm smile on her face.

"Hey Castle," she greets him. "And Alexis. Beautiful dress."

The young redhead's cheeks blush lightly at the compliment. "Thank you."

"Better be nice, the fortune you spent on it," Castle grumbles under his breath, but his lips twitch with a smile.

"Your credit card will survive," Alexis admonishes her father's sure exaggeration. "It's not like I bought a property on the moon. Oh wait, that was _you_."

She chuckles under her breath, earning a glare from Castle. "Just for that, neither of you can live with me when the earth floods and there's nowhere left but ocean."

Alexis shrugs casually. "The moon? Forget it. I'll be on Mars. Way cooler."

Beckett is just turning to him with a reassuring comment on her lips when the bartender interrupts with ever-impeccable timing. "One champagne, one coke." The man slides the two glasses across the counter before turning to Beckett. "Anything for you, miss?"

Why not? "A glass of champagne, please."

The waiter nods and reaches once again for the bottle of champagne. By the time she turns back to Castle his attention is already drawn to the dance floor. She whirls her head around, finds it's Jenny's uncle who has caught his attention. The man stands before the crowd, tapping the microphone to test whether it's on before the speakers reverberate with his announcement that it's time for Ryan and Jenny's first dance as husband and wife.

Miss number four.

* * *

It's only a few songs later before Castle and Alexis leave their half-finished drinks at the bar and he leads his daughter for a dance. Beckett gives a polite wave as she watches them go, a sigh weighing heavy in her chest as she holds it back. It gives a little though as keeps an observant eye on them, father and daughter laughing as they spin on the dance floor.

She can't deny that the wonderful father Castle is isn't one of his biggest attractions.

It's not even that she wants children. No. Just- seeing the type of man he really is- behind whatever public persona he chooses to plaster on and all the jokes that come with it- sends a shot of warmth to her heart. He's loving. Proud. Stern. Attentive. In his eyes, Alexis is his whole world.

He's everything a father should be.

"I'm sure he'll have time for a dance with you later," Esposito ribs as he slides up along the bar beside her.

Beckett levels a stern warning glare at him. "You see him when you were sizing up Lanie's date?" she shoots back.

Esposito scoffs. "There's no competition."

"For a man who spent the better part of the last two days talking about Lanie and her date, you seem awfully confident all of a sudden."

The other detective pauses for a moment. "Toby is gay," he finally supplies an answer.

She snorts. All that overreaction over nothing.

"You want to dance?" Esposito changes the subject. He extends an open palm in offer for her to take, one eyebrow arched for further invitation.

Beckett considers politely refusing the offer for a moment. She's not the biggest dancer at the best of times, especially not under bright lights with nothing more than a few sips of champagne, but then Esposito is putting on the puppy dog pout that's impossible to say no to.

"All right," she gives in, and takes his hand.

At least he leads her to the centre of the dance floor, where the crowd can circle around them as they shuffle a little awkwardly. Dancing and making small talk with an old friend while the notes of ridiculous music float through the room- it's all rather fun.

Fun that's over too soon.

"You mind if we call this it?" Esposito says suddenly as only the second song draws to a close.

Beckett whips her head around to find Lanie standing alone on the dance floor as Toby wanders toward the bar. She smirks at Esposito knowingly. "Sure," she drawls out, holding back the flood of teasing comments that sit ready on her tongue.

The other detective nods quickly in thanks, taking off before she even has a chance to blink. Left alone on the dance floor, Beckett stands there for only a moment before she turns to leave. It's never fun to be the awkward person standing still in a swaying sea of people dancing. But spinning around on her heels only leaves her finding her escape path suddenly blocked by a solid body.

"Any chance for a dance?" L.T. shoots her a smile, one that she can't say no to.

Beckett nods in acceptance of his offer, lets out a little breathless laugh as he places a hand that's too careful on her waist. It's a little awkward as the music begins to pick up again, more shuffling on the spot than real dancing. But she's here alone and he's here alone, and maybe this is just the fun she needs to help take her mind off the partner she's barely spoken to all evening.

Yet as she sways with L.T., all she can think about is that the man's arms around her aren't _his_.

Miss number five.

* * *

Some days are easier than others to push down the concoction of a million different feelings that burn inside her. Those are the days where she can think straight. Where she can work through every detail and see reason (or at least make up a reason for why she's pushing him away).

On days like today, though, her mind fogs so heavily. The reasoning of _why_ they're not together already becomes a little less clear, disappearing into the hazy mist. His face lit up with a soft smile and a crinkle of his eyes floods her mind until it's all she sees, and the longer she stares at it, the harder it becomes not to just _give in_.

Though it doesn't matter how close she comes to running to him, it always ends the same way. She chickens out, pretends as if they aren't ready, and lets the dark storm cloud settle around her.

It's happening right now; she can already feel it blowing in. L.T. cracks a few jokes, tries to lighten the heavy mood that she's drawing over them. Beckett makes her best efforts to laugh and smile back, but they both know it never quite reaches her eyes.

"Everything all right, Beckett?" the other cop asks her. It's the one question she'd been wishing he wouldn't ask.

She nods. She's fine. This is a happy day, a wonderful celebration for their friends. "Yes," she offers in response, but her voice a little too raspy to be convincing.e

It's a lie, and they both know it. Everyone knows it.

Still, L.T. doesn't call her on it. Just nods and plays along. There are no more jokes to be made, though.

A silence settling over them, Beckett shuffles a little closer. The flash of understanding in L.T.'s eyes leaves her a little too vulnerable. She can't look him in the eyes again, not when she's such an open book.

Staring over his shoulder, her eyes wander across the sea of smiling faces. She watches the people dance and laugh around them and tries to soak up the atmosphere. Tries to lose herself in the music and forget about her aching heart and the longing for someone she doesn't deserve.

She's almost tricked herself into thinking it's working when L.T. twirls them in a half-circle and then he's all she can see.

He's across the dance floor, arms still wrapped around his daughter. When her eyes slide across to meet his, she finds him already studying her, baby blues so completely piercing as he takes in the sight of her. There's almost a startled flash when their eyes meet, but all so swiftly it's overcome by a sudden dullness. He doesn't even bother to mask the crestfallen expression that takes over the lines of his face when L.T. begins to spin them away again.

Beckett shifts in her friend's arms so she's looking over his other shoulder now. The message seems to make it through to L.T. because he stops spinning them so they instead sway on the spot. No longer moving she finds Castle's eyes once again, never wavering for a long few minutes after that. Yet all the time a heavy sadness settles in her heart as each second ticks by and he's still across the room.

Still not with her.

She's tired of this. Tired of the wall she's built up between them. Tired of the lines she's drawn to stop him from crossing too close. Tired of all the longing glances she can only steal when he isn't looking. Tired of denying what is right in front of her.

Oh. He's right in front of her.

Beckett blinks, a little startled at Castle's sudden presence. He's crossed the room so swiftly while she'd been lost in her thoughts, and now she can barely comprehend what's happening. That he's actually here. That's he's actually staring at her with unwavering focus. That he's actually tapping L.T. on the shoulder. That he's actually asking, "Do you mind if I cut in?" in that smooth voice she loves so much.

Castle doesn't even give the cop a chance to respond. Just swiftly puts his weight between L.T. and herself, arms sliding around her waist and fingers low on her back tugging her close.

And as she falls effortlessly into his arms and his lips find hers, she knows this is exactly where she's supposed to be.

_Hit_.

* * *

**A/N:** Next one will be a two-parter. Stay tuned.


	12. 3x16 Setup (Part I)

**A/N:** I lied. This is now part one of three. The next part (3x17 Countdown, obviously) got away from me and ended up running way too long, so I've divided it in two. All complete, so no major delays between parts like with this one.

Also, each episode has its own 'what if', but the story links together. The third part therefore has no 'what if', as it is merely a continuation of the same episode.

Enjoy.

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**3x16 Setup (Part I)**

* * *

_What if… Beckett and Castle hadn't been interrupted when they were in quarantine?_

* * *

Castle's mouth runs with crazy theory after crazy theory, almost as if he doesn't realise he's doing it. She understands it's his way of coping but it isn't helping. Not now. Not when they've been locked in this damned quarantine tent without any explanation.

"Can we just talk about something else?" she interrupts him.

He finally falls silent then, zipping up the plastic window to block out the hectic sea of people outside. Yet the moment he takes a seat on the bench opposite her, the conversation takes the only turn she'd been hoping to avoid. "How's Josh?"

Hm. Josh. Where does she even start?

"Fine." She scrunches her face at her bland answer. "He's… he's on his way to Haiti to do another Doctors Without Borders mission." She can't help the bitterness that seeps into her tone. It's already long settled in her heart.

"How long?"

She shrugs. She doesn't know. She never knows.

"It's so funny, Castle," she starts, even though it's anything but. "At first I loved that he was so busy. It gave me an opportunity to keep one foot out the door, just in case."

"But with one foot out the door it's hard to know where you stand." It's as if he's read her mind.

"And even if I did, what does it _mean_? He's out there- he's saving people. I mean, how do you even compete with that?" She chokes on a quiet breath of laughter. It's not funny.

"You can't," he agrees with her, voice tinged with sadness as he does so. "No, you can't."

"And that's one of the things that attracted me to him the most. That passion. That drive." She pauses for a moment and lets out a light sigh. "Why is it that the thing that attracts you to a person always ends up being the thing that just drives you crazy?"

Beckett flexes her fingers to stop them from strangling the air in front of her. She inhales a deep breath, lets the air work out the frustration in her veins. "I just wish that… I wish that I had someone who would be there for me and I could be there for him and we could just dive into it together."

Castle is silent for a long moment in contemplation of her words, then, "Kate-"

But nothing more.

Her name dies on his tongue. She blinks at him and arches a questioning eyebrow, but he's already lowered his head and fallen into a stubborn silence.

She places an encouraging hand on his knee and prompts him to continue. "Castle, if you have anything to say, please do. Because I'm at such a loss here."

Castle shakes his head, eyes closing over as he still refuses to meet her gaze. "No. It's not my place."

She squeezes his knee gently, the pressure from her fingertips finally urging him to snap his head up. "Please?" she whispers.

"I just-" He scrubs a hand over his face to clear his mind. "It's great that Josh is so passionate about helping people, but if he's not willing to take a step back now… is that ever going to change?"

Her heart twists painfully, her stomach swirling around nauseously. Castle is right; Josh is absent. He's always leaving her for the hospital or heading overseas. Even when he makes it to her apartment there's always an armful of medical journals he'll read instead of catching up with her.

Though it's not fair that she shifts all the blame onto him. Even if he's not working, she is. She chooses work over Josh.

Hell- she chooses _Castle_ over Josh. Tells Josh she'll be another hour because she wants to have a drink with Castle. Heads out when they're already in bed together just to listen to one of Castle's ridiculous theories. Theories she could hear over the phone. Theories that could wait until morning.

Beckett sighs heavily, the weight of her admission already sinking in her chest. "He's always away."

(But you're still here.)

"I don't…" She sighs again. "I don't think Josh is the right man."

* * *

The truth slips all too easily off her tongue to be anything but. From the bench in front of her Castle blinks, a little startled at her sudden confession. He gathers himself quickly though, smoothing over his stunned features with compassion. Yet the slight crease between his brows and thinness of his lips tells how he's holding something back.

"You deserve someone who cares, Kate," he finally says quietly. "Someone who is willing to be there for you."

And then he's meeting her eyes and his are shining and almost _pleading_ with her to understand and-

Oh.

He means himself.

Beckett yanks her leather gloves off her hands and rises quickly from the bench. It's suddenly too hot, Castle's gaze so intense and stifling. She puts much needed distance between them and heads for the window in the side of the quarantine tent, the only thing in this empty space that can serve as a distraction.

It doesn't work. There's a magnetic pull that urges her back to Castle before she even has a chance to unzip the window and peek outside. It draws her around, eyes falling on him once again. What she finds isn't a look she ever wants to see on him again. His head bows low as he leans forward. His weight rests on his forearms, hands clasped together as they hang between his knees. The pose of a sad man with a breaking heart.

Her feet are moving for him before her brain catches up. This time, though, she doesn't take a seat opposite him. Instead she sinks onto the bench beside him, scoots up closer than she would've dared just a few minutes ago.

"Why do you do this?" she whispers. She has to know. She needs the reassurance of his words before she can think through this any more.

His head turns slowly so his eyes can meet hers. "Do what?" he rasps.

"Risk your life just to follow me around," she clarifies. "You're not- you're not a cop. You didn't sign on for this."

"You telling me you actually expected to be exposed to high levels of radiation when you joined the force?" Castle arches an amused eyebrow at her, a slight smirk playing on the corners of his lips.

His joke draws out a bubble of laughter from her, effective in lightening the mood. "No," she agrees, smoothing her hands along the length of her thighs. "Definitely didn't expect this."

The heavy mood draws back over them all too quickly. "You're right, though. I'm not a cop," he agrees with a small nod. "But that doesn't mean I didn't sign on for the risk every bit as you did."

"Then why?" she stresses. "You're a writer, Castle. You have a safe job where you can work from home and raise your daughter. So knowing the risk, _why_ did you choose this?"

Her question is too open for their relationship.

His answer comes even more honest.

"Because I don't want anything to happen to you."

* * *

Her heart stops for a moment, the intake of air sharp as her breathing ceases. His words chant over and over in her mind, so loud and crystal clear.

_He doesn't want anything to happen to her_.

It's something she should have already known – something he's proved to her time and time again – but to hear the words fall so openly from his lips startles her. Beckett blinks, but she can't look away. Not when he's staring at her with those wide that _beg_ for her to understand.

She does. She understands so completely, because she feels exactly the same.

"Thank you," is all she manages to whisper. "For having my back. For being here… when others aren't."

She holds his gaze, hopes he understands.

He does.

There's a flicker of recognition in his eyes, the way his mouth parts ever so slightly in surprise another tell. A heavy silence falls over them, neither willing to break it or even willing to move. Her heart is hammering so hard in her chest, her blood on fire as it races around her body. Every nerve ending is alight, just waiting for his touch, almost singing out for it.

Then her eyes fall to his lips. She knows she's giving him too much permission, but she can't stop herself. There's a longing in her heart that can't be subsided, its beat drumming for only him. His fingers stretch toward her slowly, twist around a lock of curls to tuck them back behind her ear. They don't drop, though. Castle sweeps the soft pads of his fingertips across her cheeks. They run so smoothly and so tenderly across her skin but leave a fire in their wake, his touch too much and yet nowhere near enough.

She doesn't know whether she imagines it or not (yet wishes it all the same) but she swears Castle leans in a little closer. Her tongue darts out involuntarily as his eyes darken, moistening her lips in preparation. But-

No. She can't.

"I'm still with Josh," she whispers.

There's nothing but regret in her voice, and Castle's face is filled with the same. His fingers drop from her face, eyes fall low to his lap. "I'm sorry," he rasps.

She shakes her head, takes both his hands between hers so her thumbs can brush a soothing circle across his skin.

She doesn't want him to be sorry.

* * *

A bomb.

A dirty bomb. That's what they uncover. Designed to emit high levels of cobalt-60 when it explodes.

_Radioactive_ cobalt-60.

Beckett draws in each breath carefully and exhales it even slower as she listens to Montgomery and Fallon's briefing. She needs to remain calm. To focus. She's of no use to the team panicked.

She's just about slowed her heartbeat down to a normal rhythm once again when Castle walks through the door. It takes off running then, seizing in a panic with the knowledge he's going to be here if the bomb goes off, because like hell she'll convince him to leave now.

But if it would keep him safe, she wishes just this once he would.

"Due to the nature of this case," Montgomery addresses the team, "let me remind you not to discuss this with anyone. Not even family. We can't afford to have word leak out and cause a panic."

A panic. Too late. It's already flooding through her mind.

The captain nods and takes a step back. "Let me turn this over to Agent Fallon."

She overhears the boys' conversation just as Fallon begins to speak.

"Rang Jenny to tell her I'd be late," Ryan murmurs, the notes of his voice only just loud enough to catch her ears. "Tried to get her to go visit her mom."

Esposito nods in understanding. "Yeah, I did the same thing with Lanie. It didn't work. She hates her mom."

Her heart knots. They tried to get their loved ones out of town. She wants to do the same.

She looks for him.

He's already looking at her.


	13. 3x17 Countdown (Part II)

**A/N: **Apologies for the delay and screwy link. I don't think the site cared you were all hanging out for an update.

This part was written because I never found it realistic that Kate- being the smaller of the two and the first to succumb to the cold- was the first one to wake.

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**3x17 Countdown (Part II)**

* * *

_What if… Beckett was still unconscious when Castle woke?_

* * *

He jolts awake so suddenly, in so much pain.

All his limbs are stiff, protesting sharply as he rises off the bed. He grunts and forces his muscles to move, tries to ignore the pain that shoots through him. His mind is cloudy, so fogged and heavy, but there's one thought that shines through.

"Beckett," he rasps. "Where is she?"

She's the only thought in his head.

There's a hand on his shoulder but it's too large to be Beckett's. It pushes him back down as a voice urges the same. "Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down."

Castle blinks the figure into focus, notes the star of life embroidered onto his jacket. The man is a paramedic. Why is there a paramedic?

He shakes away the thought, Beckett's face in his mind once again. "Where is she?" Castle repeats. Is she okay? Did they take her? Where-

"She's going to be fine," someone finally answers his question. "You're both going to be fine. Got to you just in time."

Castle blinks, the figure in front of him slightly startling. "Josh?"

The doctor ignores his name and explains the situation instead. "You're recovering from a moderate case of hypothermia," Josh tells him. "You're going to be a little bit sluggish for a while, but with some warmth and some fluids you should be all right."

His brain is still slow, taking a while to catch up on Josh's sudden presence before he can even think about the rest. "I- I thought you were in Haiti?"

Josh shrugs. "Well… I didn't go."

The man helps free Castle of the IV then and sits him up to test his joints. "Where did you say Beckett was?" he questions slowly. He can't help it. He has to _see_ her to know she's all right.

There's a pause that eats at his heart. "I didn't," Josh says slowly. "Kate- she's in the other ambulance."

Ambulance.

"I thought you said she was all right?" There's a growl underlying his voice as he throws out an accusation.

Josh sighs. "She will be. For now… look, she's smaller than you. She's still recovering. It might be a while until she wakes."

Oh, God. She's not awake.

Without thinking his actions through Castle throws back the blankets, desperate to get off this damn stretcher and check on Beckett. He tries to swivel and slide his legs off the stretcher so he can stand but Josh grabs his shoulders, forces him back down before he can manage to move.

"Easy, Castle," he insists. "You need to rest."

"I need to see Beckett," he growls.

It doesn't quite make it through his awareness that he isn't even her boyfriend. That her_ actual _boyfriend is here, telling him to take it easy because his body is stiff and exhausted from trying to fight off freezing to death. And he's sure if the cold wasn't still numbing his mind that he wouldn't be doing this. The voice in his head would tell him to stop, just like it always does. But he nearly froze to death with Beckett in his arms – he actually _watched_ her slip under – and he just –

He just needs to see her.

Josh gives in then, finally helping Castle instead of fighting him. Throwing two blankets around his shoulders the doctor helps him stand, eases him gently down the back of the van and stands close as he shuffles with protesting muscles to the second ambulance.

When he finally clambers into the back, Castle's heart gives way in his chest.

She's so still, so pale. Her lips are chapped, the backs of her eyelids a light, veiny blue. Her hair is still damp, the frost from the freezer having melted in the warmer air outside. Staring down at her body that looks so lifeless it's hard to believe she's actually any better from when they were first pulled out.

"The fluids are helping," Josh reassures him quietly. "She was worse before. Her pulse is stronger, and there's a little more colour to her cheeks."

Castle scoffs. Barely. He runs his eyes over the IV, almost suspicious as to whether it's helping at all. "She doesn't need to go to the hospital?"

Josh shakes his head. "No. She'll be all right soon. Just needs warmth, fluids, and rest."

It's not until he hears the hurt in Josh's voice does it finally hit Castle just how far he's overstepping.

"Can I stay?" he questions politely. This isn't his girlfriend, after all. She's just-

She's just the cop he follows, and he's nothing more than her shadow.

The other man pauses for a long minute – deciding whether Castle needs more medical attention or whether he just wants to be petty, Castle doesn't know – but in the end he gives a nod. "Sure. Just keep the blankets around you, and tell Scott here if you begin to feel faint."

With that, Josh heads back to the other ambulance, leaving Castle to settle down beside the other man's woman.

* * *

His is the first face she sees when she wakes.

It's not until a minute later when she sees Josh does she realise it should have been the other way around.

Castle. He's always here. Even when Josh _is_ around, Castle is the first person to be here for her.

But he'd slipped from the ambulance without a word the moment Josh jumped in.

When Josh finally gives her a once-over and helps her up off the stretcher she excuses herself with little hesitation. Hopping down slowly off the back of the van she follows Castle's wake, wandering around the warehouse area until she finds him resting against the trunk of Esposito's car.

"Hey," she calls out to him softly. "Everything okay? You disappeared back there."

Castle turns at the sound of her voice, his face so carefully masked as he nods. "Everything's fine," he responds with. It's a lie. The hunch of his shoulders gives him away.

"Just giving Josh some room to check your injuries," he tries to convince her. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugs. She doesn't know. Her head is clouded, body slow and protesting with every movement. Then there's the heavy, solid weight sitting low inside her that she doesn't know whether is lifting or sinking even lower.

"So… your boy's back in town," Castle comments.

She has to hold back a sigh that jumps ready to her throat. "Mm-hm. He came back."

He nods a little absently, as if lost in a thought. "So what does that mean to you?"

It's a long moment before she answers, for once honest after yesterday's conversation. "Does one gesture make up for months of sloppy excuses?"

"It's a big gesture," Castle offers. Why he's supporting Josh, she doesn't know.

She lowers her eyes, ashamed at the admission that spills too easily from her lips. "I'm still not sure it's enough."

* * *

If there ever had been a hard case at the precinct in the past, Beckett would have headed home alone. It wasn't that she lacked the company. No. Just that she enjoyed the quiet solitude of her own home after the bustle of the bullpen. Preferred some time on her own where she could unwind. Perhaps she would have soaked in a tub full of bubbles until the water grew cold, or escaped from her own mind by losing herself a good book.

(_His_ book.)

Tonight, though, she doesn't head home alone. Instead she heads back to her apartment with Josh in tow, the man she'd realised today she doesn't want to be with.

But he came back for her. She feels… obligated to make it work.

God, that sounds ridiculous. And _terrible_. So terrible, but-

It's simply how she feels, and that's not something she can help.

"You're quiet," Josh comments lightly.

Beckett spins around to see him still hovering by her front door. How many months have passed and he's still not comfortable to walk in without an invitation?

Swallowing the sigh in her chest, all she offers back is a quiet hum.

Josh remains quiet for a moment before taking a few bold steps into the room to match his demanding question. "What's the deal with Castle?"

She startles. "I'm sorry?"

"He just… I thought he just followed you around?"

"He does," she lies.

(He's her partner.)

"Then how did the two of you end up nearly freezing to death?"

"It's just a case."

"Cops usually end up with bullet wounds, not hypothermia."

She throws a glare at him. Is he actually complaining her only injury is hypothermia? "I know it's a little out of the ordinary, but I can't go into the details, Josh. It's classified."

"But Castle is allowed to know."

Ah. Now she understands. The jealousy tinging Josh's voice is unmistakable.

"He signed a confidentiality agreement when he started at the precinct," she deflects.

"That's not my point."

"Then what _is_?" she growls, even though she already knows.

"My point is that most cops don't have partners that sit a constant vigil by their bedside until the other wakes."

Beckett clenches her jaw before responding. "Castle is a civilian," she brushes off Josh's comment. "He doesn't have the same training. He doesn't process things quite the same."

"I saw the way you looked at him when he left the ambulance, Kate. Like you didn't want him to leave."

She exhales a long breath. They're really going to have this argument. Again.

"Not tonight, Josh," she pleads quietly. "Please. It's been a hell of a day. I'm exhausted. So can we please get some rest and talk about this in the morning?"

Beckett doesn't wait for a response. Just heads for her bedroom without another word, not caring in the slightest whether Josh follows.

"Kate, I'm going to Haiti."

She freezes, spinning around slowly on her heels to arch an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm going to Haiti," he repeats.

Confusion creases her forehead as her eyebrows knit together. "Then why did you bother to come back?"

"Because I wanted to try and make this-" He points between them, "-work. After today, I realise we're never going to work."

It's true. They both know it.

"Why?" she asks all the same. She has to know what he's seen that has changed his mind so quickly about their relationship.

"I think you know why," Josh says quietly.

She does.

Castle.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "Josh, I'm sorry."

He nods. "I'm sorry too."

They stand across the room awkwardly for a moment, a silence falling between them as they stare at one another. Neither knows what to say to make this break up any less uncomfortable, or any more reassuring they've chosen the right decision.

"Take care of yourself, Kate," Josh finally says. "And let yourself be happy."

He leaves then without another word.

It's over.

(She's free.)

* * *

Beckett stands in her living room for a long moment after her front door closes behind Josh. Her every muscle is exhausted, her heart heavy and sinking ever lower in her chest.

He's gone.

There's a creeping sadness that wraps itself around her at the realisation that her relationship is over. Josh may never have been the right man for her but he was a source of comfort nonetheless. One that helped to steady her after Castle left, to pick her back up and plant her once again on two feet.

Now she's alone. Again.

But there's a voice in her head telling her she doesn't need to be.

For now, she just wants to give up. Though when Beckett turns to head to bed, her eyes catch the book resting open on her coffee table.

_Heat Wave_.

Castle. He may be across the city, but he's still here. She knows that when she wakes tomorrow and heads to the precinct, he'll step out of the elevator with two coffees in his hand. He's a constant in her life. One she needs, now more than ever.

She doesn't want him to be alone.

(She doesn't want to be alone.)

Not tonight. Not after the day they both had, the near miss, the brutal honesty.

So she goes to him.

* * *

**A/N:** One more part to go.


	14. 3x17 Countdown (Part III)

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**3x17 Countdown (Part III)**

* * *

It's far past late when she knocks on his door. She sways a little on the spot, fights off the exhaustion that threatens to overcome her at any moment.

He never answers.

She knocks again, a little louder this time, a little more persistent. After a few moments she presses her ear to the door to listen for the tell-tale signs of someone still awake inside. The low hum of a TV, the quiet shuffling of footsteps.

There's nothing.

She should have realised he wouldn't be awake. Hell, she's not even sure how _she_ is still awake right now. They nearly froze to death (it still chills her just thinking about it) and had barely been allowed any time to rest before they'd dove back into the case. By the end of the day he looked absolutely shattered, so completely exhausted.

She exhales a heavy sigh. She can't wake him. Not after today.

So she turns, and leaves.

* * *

The elevator doors are just parting when the door swings open far behind her.

"I thought I heard a knock," Martha calls out to her softly.

Beckett spins around, a little started at the older woman's presence. That she's busted her coming to see Castle in the middle of the night.

"I- I just wanted to check Castle was all right," she offers weakly.

Martha holds up two pausing hands, for which Beckett is thankful. The woman never judges. "Please, Darling. Come in."

She shakes her head in protest. "Oh, no. I should go."

"Nonsense. Richard will be thrilled you thought of him."

They both know he won't, considering he's fast asleep.

Yet there's something in Martha's tone that draws Beckett in. She shuffles back along the hallway and lets the redhead guide her into the loft. The blast of warmth hits her the moment she crosses the threshold. She can't help but chuckle. Castle has gone a little overboard with the heat. That beings said, it's definitely not unwelcome.

"Would you like something to drink?" Martha asks softly as she ushers her through the kitchen. "Something warm, perhaps. Tea? Decaf? Hot chocolate?"

"Oh, no," she protests politely. "You don't have to wait on me."

The older woman ignores her, moving through the kitchen with a concerned smile on her face.

"Please, Martha," Beckett insists. "You should head back to bed, and I- I should go." Because, really- what is she even doing here?

Martha eyes her curiously, but gives in. "All right, Dear. I'll be upstairs if you need me. And if you do decide to leave, you can just turn the lock before you shut the door."

_If_ she decides to leave?

Beckett is still gaping after the older woman when she hears the soft click of the bedroom door closing upstairs.

_If she decides to leave_.

Right. She should go – now – before she does something really stupid like checking in on Castle while he sleeps.

But instead of moving to the front door, her feet carry her to Castle's bedroom of their own accord. Her mind foggy from the cold and heavy with sleep, no alarm bells ring to warn her this is a terrible idea. So when she makes it to the door her fingers clasp the handle without hesitation, the other hand open as it presses on the wood to steady it so there's no creaking when she swings it open.

The heavy weight pressing on her chest lifts the moment her eyes fall on him.

He's sound asleep, face slack, mouth just parting into a small _o_, hair dishevelled and falling across his forehead. One hand rests on his stomach, the other having fallen onto the sheet beside his hip. His chest rises and falls slowly with each short breath, his lower lip wobbling slightly every time he exhales. Everything about him is so peaceful, no trace of the wearing couple of days.

He's fine. He's sound asleep in his bed, perfectly fine without her.

So once again she turns and leaves.

* * *

She hasn't made it out of the room before he stirs.

"Kate?"

Damn.

Beckett freezes as her name slips softly from his lips, echoing in the nighttime silence of the loft. Heart pounding with embarrassment, it takes a long moment for her to find the courage to lift her eyes from the floor and meet his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Castle asks her quietly. There's both curiosity and concern in his voice, a mix that has her opening up before she realises how easily she's letting go of the vice on her heart.

"I wanted to check whether you were all right," she admits on a long breath. "After today. It was… intense."

Pushing himself to sit up so he leans back on his palms, Castle nods. "Yeah. It was," he agrees. "Are _you_ okay?"

She swallows the sigh that sits heavily in her throat. "Josh and I- we broke up."

Her heart sinks at the admission. However little he'd been there for her, however little effort she'd put into the relationship, the other man had been a part of her life for almost a year. Even if the end had long been coming, that it is now over settles a little unease inside her.

"I'm sorry," Castle whispers. "Kate, I'm sorry."

The sigh falls from her lips this time. Without invitation she moves to him, flat boots padding softly against the hardwood floors until she steps onto the rug that lines his bed. Then she sinks down onto the edge of the mattress beside his hip, her body angled slightly away to keep a slight distance between them.

She shouldn't be doing this. She really shouldn't be doing this. Here, in his bedroom, on his _bed_, when she's single and there isn't a thing to stop her. Her mind is still sluggish with the memory of their chilling near miss though, and she's so far beyond the point of exhausted that she doesn't even know what she's doing anymore. The side of her brain that reasons is fast asleep, leaving her to fumble for herself.

Beckett shrugs off his apology. "It was a long time coming." It may be the truth, but does it still make her awful that she's ready to move on so quickly?

Even so, she lets her body angle toward his on a long breath. Her eyes are focused low for only a moment before they rise to meet his. Her left hand is stretching out before she even realises it's moved, dropping down to rest on his inner thigh just above his knee. At her touch Castle sucks in a sharp breath, eyes dilating a little wider in the dark room. And when he's looking at her like that – so intense, with so much longing – she can't help it when her eyes flick down to his lips.

"Kate…"

She pauses. It's not a voice she wants to hear her name in. It's not filled with desire. Only a warning, one that speaks how she needs to stop.

Beckett ignores his caution, keeps her hand firm on his thigh, fingers tracing tender patterns on his skin through the sheet. She shifts a little closer, tongue darting out almost unconsciously to lick her lips while she remains fixated on his.

"Kate, no," he warns her again, voice a little more stern than before.

She bows her head, a light embarrassment tinging her cheeks. "I thought you wanted this?" Wasn't this what they'd talked about in quarantine?

"I do," he chokes out. "God, Kate. I do. But not like this. Not tonight. Not after you and Josh-"

Her head snaps up to meet his gaze. "You're not a rebound," she tells him firmly. "Oh, Castle. You could _never_ be a rebound."

He swallows a hard lump in his throat, takes in the lines of her face for a long moment as he searches for the truth. She doesn't let her eyes waver from his in the hope she can convey just how much she wants him. Because she does – so much – and she's tired of trying to convince herself otherwise.

"Kate," he breathes. Ah. This is the voice she wants to hear. The fiery one with a burning desire. The sweet one filled with adoration. The one with wonder and pride. Everything – all of it – is mixed together. It lights a fire in her veins that sparks her entire body. Her body already burning for him, she can't hold back.

So she makes a bold move then, slides further up on the bed so there's barely an inch between them. Castle's hands fly to her waist immediately as if to hold her back, but he doesn't. Just digs his fingers into her flesh, the spot where the tips brush her skin searing at the contact. Her own palms splay across his chest, nails raking along his skin as they slide slowly upward. No collar on his undershirt her long fingers are free circle around his neck, sweeping across his skin as she draws him in.

"Kate," he breathes again.

Her eyes flutter. "Yes?" she whispers, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips.

"I-"

He never finishes. Just slants his lips across hers in a bruising display of affection.

And, _oh_ – this is everything. Everything she's denied for so long, everything she's wanted for even longer. Fuelled by the passion that's been simmering for three years every movement of his lips sets her on fire, every touch of his fingertips leaves a scolding burn of desire in their wake.

It's all so much and yet not enough. She wants this; she wants _more_. Without breaking contact Beckett shifts, scooting up onto the bed to throw a leg over his hip. As she rolls against him a groan resounds in his throat, the sound muffled by her own lips. She swallows it, lets him draw her closer than she thought possible.

But it's still not enough.

Her hands fall from his hair, moving to the hem of her bright cobalt sweater. Her fingers knock his hands aside as she fits a bunch of the wool in her hands, hastily moving to tug it up and over her head, because she wants _more_. But Castle startles her, break away all too suddenly as his hands close over hers in a pausing fashion.

There's a shot of rejection that pierces her heart as he leans back. Her lips are red and swollen as they part with the question that doesn't leave her mouth. He silences her with a look, but says nothing. Just lets their laboured breathing slow, each pant mingling in the small space between their lips.

It's a long minute later when his hands finally relinquish the grip they have on hers. Instead they rise to cup her face gently, thumbs sweeping tenderly across her cheeks. "No turning back," he tells her on a whisper.

Oh. Never.

She nods once in a promise. "No turning back."

He doesn't speak again.

She takes the opportunity to smirk at him. "So… you going to help warm me up or what?"

A grin breaks out on his face a split second before he drags her down to the bed and covers her slender frame with his.

He definitely warms her up.


	15. 2x11 The Fifth Bullet

**A/N:** This is just a bit of fun. Props for the idea go to the wonderful **yellowbrickrd**.

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**2x11 The Fifth Bullet**

* * *

_What if… Castle had taken his mother's advice and kissed Beckett?_

* * *

It's early in the morning when he finally makes it home from the precinct. His shoes scuff across the hardwood slats as he shuffles through the door, too exhausted to pick up his feet instead of dragging them. The sound catches his mother's attention, an eyebrow quirking at him from her perch on the sofa.

"Ohh, well, well, well," the redhead sings out teasingly. "Looks who's is doing the walk of shame now."

He shoots her a deadpanned look and drops onto the sofa beside her. "I was with Beckett," he explains dryly.

His mother simply smirks. "Really?" There's too much hope in her voice for the comment to be innocent.

"Uh, wrapping up a case."

Martha shakes her head in disappointment. "You should kiss that girl while you're both young."

Oh, if only it were that simple.

* * *

The yawning starts not long after that, his eyes growing ever heavier as he converses with his mother. She eventually pushes him off the couch, urges him to get some obviously much-needed shuteye since he's been up all night _wrapping up a case_.

(He kind of hates that it's the truth.)

Castle barely makes it into his bedroom before his eyes refuse to open. His tired muscles burn and protest with every movement, a reminder he's no longer in his twenties. He forgoes the much-needed shower and begins to shrug out of his clothes instead. His shoes are kicked off, skidding somewhere under the bed. The black jacket ends up hung over the armchair that sits in the corner of his room. His clothes don't make it there, instead landing in a heap beside the bed. Head heavy, it falls to the pillow the moment he slides under the covers but-

Sleep doesn't come.

Instead, he's left to lie awake to the chant of his mother's words.

_You should kiss that girl while you're both young_.

No. He couldn't. Or-

Could he?

He wants to. There's no question about it. There's just something about Beckett that's drawn him in, kept him on the hook for over a year now. Kept him waiting on the sidelines in the slightest possibility she'll look over and see him.

His imagination takes off then, thoughts of _them _filtering into his mind. The way her cheeks will tinge just before they kiss, how her lips will swell just after. The glow of her skin as she bathes in the morning sunlight, wrapped up only in his sheets and nothing more as she stretches beside him.

Hm. Yes.

With the outcome just so desirable, he thinks he'll take his mother's advice.

* * *

He arrives on her doorstep early evening, Chinese takeout in one hand, bottle of white in the other. A glance at his wristwatch signals it's only six. Surely she hasn't eaten yet, their body clocks a little messed up from the latest case.

His knuckles rap on the door three times, ears straining to pick up the sound of her footsteps. He gives it a moment- one, two, three, then-

Ah. Right on cue. The door swings open and Castle finds himself staring at one very confused Beckett.

"Castle?" Her voice is a little breathless with surprise. He likes it, imagines all the other ways he can make her a little breathless.

For now, he simply grins. "The one and only."

From the slight narrowing of her eyes, he can tell she's trying hard not to roll them. "What are you doing here?"

He holds up his left hand. "Bought you dinner," he tells her. "And wine." He raises the other hand that's clutching the bottle of white and flashes her the label.

She bites her lip, hesitating on the spot instead of inviting him in. Castle mentally cringes. He hasn't really thought this through.

"Is this a bad time?" His voice is laced with disappointment, and there's a small hope within that it might guilt her into letting him in.

It does.

Beckett runs a hand through her hair as she shakes her head. "Uh- no," she finally says. "Come in."

Taking a step back she extends an arm, a silent invitation to enter. He takes the opportunity while she's allowing it and quickly crosses the threshold. There's the vague click of the door closing softly behind him, but his attention is already drawn to her apartment.

It's a little untidy, like she was obviously not expecting company. Not too much, because this is Beckett, a control freak at the best of times. Still- he likes it. Likes seeing exactly what Katherine Beckett is like in the privacy of her home.

Her place is warm, a homey feel in the air. Shelves line each wall with assorted trinkets perched atop. Some are exotic, most likely from her travels, though there are a few more dated pieces that have perhaps come from her childhood. The bookcase to his left is filled to the brim, overflowing onto other shelves and ledges around the place. He always knew she was well read, but seeing the variety of titles curls a smile on his lips. There's his own work too, he notes, but he won't rub that in. Yet.

When he completes his 360 around her apartment, Castle finds her staring at him, curiosity now etched on her face as she takes him in.

"So… dinner?" she questions, lower lip drawn gently between her front teeth.

He clears his throat. Right.

"You want plates, or-"

"I'm happy to eat from the container," he tells her.

"Wine glasses?"

He nods. "Please."

She turns away from him, moving toward her kitchen with only a quick throw of her head that signals he should follow. "Is the wine chilled?" she calls out over her shoulder.

It takes him a moment to answer. He's too busy leering at her from behind while she stretches on her toes to grab the glasses from the uppermost shelf.

"Uh-" He sets the bag of Chinese food down on the floating island in her kitchen to run his hands over the warming bottle of wine. "I'm not sure how it's held up on the journey."

By the time she whirls back around Castle is sure he's still staring, but at the least he's managed to lift his eye line from certain, ah- inappropriate areas.

"Want it chilled in the fridge for a little longer?" Beckett asks, voice light with ignorance of his leering.

He nods once and passes her the bottle. She grasps it carefully, slides backward to her fridge, but doesn't quite turn around again.

Ah. So she _did_ notice.

Castle's cheeks heat up a little and he clears his throat in embarrassment. "You, uh- you want to put the food in the oven? Keep it warm while we wait for the wine?"

She rips open the plastic bag wordlessly, plucks out each box one at a time and sets them down on the counter. Once they're spread out she moves to the oven, twisting the switches until the temperature is just right for keeping the food warm without drying it out. One by one she takes the food out of the cardboard boxes, sets them onto tin plates instead before sliding them into the oven.

Beckett doesn't even have the chance to spin all the way around before he's pushing her up against the counter and slanting his lips over hers.

She startles at first, doesn't quite know how to react. Her mouth is still beneath his, her hands flying up to plant two open palms on his chest as if to push him away.

She doesn't.

He feels the moment the switch is flicked in her mind and she gives in. The kiss becomes so completely bruising, her lips rough and desperate as they move with his. Her nails dig into his chest, raking up to grasp his shoulders and pulling him closer. He takes the opportunity to grasp at her narrow hips and dip her a little lower, covering her slender body with his own as she bends back over the counter.

His fingers find their way underneath her blouse, hiking up the material as they sweep over her skin. The contact is burning as his fingertips run across her stomach, along her sides, up and down the curve of her spine. A moan he _knows_ she hadn't wanted to let out resounds in her throat, and he swallows it whole.

But it's then does he break away as suddenly as he'd drawn her in.

He can't go far, though, a magnetic force holding him close. Castle drops his head to rest against her forehead, eyes opening slowly to steal a glance at her. Beckett's eyes are already wide, searching his for answers. Hands halfway up her rucked blouse slide down the bare skin of her stomach, leaving her shivering underneath his burning touch as they circle around her waist to hold her close.

"What-" She breaks off on a shaky breath. "I- what was that?"

Castle takes the fact she doesn't sound hopping mad as a good sign. "My mother told me to." He brushes a tender thumb across her cheek, sweeping back a lock of hair that's fallen over her forehead.

She scowls at him. "Your _mother_ told you to _kiss me_?" Beckett scoffs, disbelieving. "I don't think so."

He nods once. "It's true. Ask her."

"And when she asks how I know about your conversation, what do you want me to say then? 'Oh, I was just kissing him, and-'"

He cuts her off with another kiss. It's a little slower, a little sweeter. A gentle exploration rather than the hard and fast bruising kiss they'd shared just moments ago. But once again it draws out a soft sigh from her lips, the so completely satisfied sound like music to his ears.

Her palms work their way between their bodies, and for a moment Castle fears she's going to push him away. She doesn't. Just bunches fistfuls of his cotton shirt between her fingers and draws him closer, lips parting a little more, tongue languid against his but so demanding and fervent all the same.

It takes everything he has to break away again but he does, because she's here in his arms, so soft, so pliable and willing, and he just _has _to know what she's thinking.

"Kate…" It's nothing more than a breath, barely a whisper of her name. He can't manage anything more but it's hot, washing over her lips, his desire for her unmistakable.

"Castle, I-"

He hums a quiet question when she doesn't continue. "You what?"

He can't help but press his lips to hers again before she can respond.

"You what, Kate?" he whispers, managing to hold back this time.

Beckett draws in a shaky breath, keeps her eyes low, almost in shame. "I'm not going to be another one of your conquests."

Oh, no.

"No, Kate," he tells her. "You're definitely not anybody's conquest."

"You better not be lying," she warns. "Because I sleep with a gun, remember?"

Oh- he remembers.

"Not lying." Castle kisses her again, tries to prove that he wants her, _all_ of her.

A hum vibrates in her throat, reverberating through his body. "Okay, then," she whispers.

"Okay?"

Hand urgent on the back of his neck as it draws him downward, she covers his lips with hers once again.

No more talking.


	16. 4x13 An Embarrassment of Bitches

**A/N:** Thanks to both **yellowbrickrd** and **Dmarx** for suggesting this one. Getting through the list one by one.

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**4x13 An Embarrassment of Bitches**

* * *

_What if… Beckett had grown frustrated waiting for Castle and went over to his loft?_

* * *

The knock sounds on his door just as the clock strikes eight-thirty. A quick flick of his eyes reveals Royal remains perfectly happy, stretching along the length of his expensive leather sofa without a care, mouth falling open in almost a cheeky grin as he still pants from their game of fetch. Satisfied he'll stay for the meantime, Castle leaves the dog to laze around and moves to greet his visitor.

His heart drops out suddenly. "Oh."

The front door swings open to reveal one extremely unimpressed Beckett, hazel eyes narrowed and fiery as they shoot daggers at him. Castle gulps, unable to help his Adam's apple from bobbing a little fearfully in his throat.

"You were supposed to bring Royal to my place well over an hour ago." The nail of her pointer finger taps at the face of her father's watch for good measure.

Ruh-oh.

Fumbling with a fake-chuckle, Castle opens his mouth, weak excuse at the ready. "I can explain," he starts off.

No chance. Royal spots the detective and gives one loud, overenthusiastic bark that bounces off the high ceilings to echo through his loft. Without further warning he leaps off the couch, bounding toward Beckett with a clatter of his paws on the hardwood floors. She half-bends her knees to pat Royal, but the dog is too excited to sit still and receive praise. His wagging tail thumps softly against her leg as he circles her once, twice, three times before he leaps up to plant outstretches paws on her chest.

"Easy, Boy. Easy," Castle scolds the Retriever. Without thinking his fingers pry at Royal's paws, awkwardly wrapping around the pads under his feet and lifting them into the open air so the dog is left with no choice but to fall down on all fours.

It's then does Castle realise all to late he's all but groped Beckett.

She's trying hard to keep the embarrassment of his actions from having a hold over them, so kindly pretending she hasn't realised what he's just done. How… considerate. He'll give her that, yes, but _oh_- she's not hiding her reaction well at _all_. There's a stiffness to her posture, arms rigid by her side. A stern clenching of her jawline, a deep flush of her cheeks, a ducking of her eyes as she hides from his gaze that's so completely telling.

"Beckett?" He speaks the question of her name so faintly he's not sure at first whether she's heard it at all. Her eyes remain fixated on Royal, an obvious refusal to meet his gaze. But then her lower lip is drawn back between her teeth and there's the softest of sighs that falls from her lips, and he just knows she heard.

Mass effort it takes him, Castle lets it go. With an overly-loud throat clearing he redirects the conversation. "Just give me a moment to find his leash and you can take him back to your place."

She nods just once, eyes slowly trailing from Royal up to meet his shyly. It's a little… odd. He's sure he would have met the business end of her gun or received a death threat – a slap to the back of his head at the very least.

Progress? He hopes so.

For now, he'll give her the distance she needs.

* * *

When he returns from his bedroom with Royal's leash in his hand, the awkwardness of their earlier encounter fades as they slip back effortlessly into their usual banter.

"All right. Say goodbye, Castle," Beckett tells him. Her tone is so typically wife-like, that mix between disapproving and judgemental, and there's a stern look thrown in his direction for good measure. "It's time for Royal to go."

He can't help the pout that creeps onto his lips as he crouches beside Royal. "You want to stay here, don't you, Boy?" He scratches behind Royal's ears, earning points in his favour from the dog as he wags his tail enthusiastically.

An echoing tap of Beckett's boots on his hardwood floors draws his attention up to where she stands with arms crossed over her chest and her head shaking in admonishment. "We had a deal."

"He wants to stay here."

She scoffs. "He just wants the treats you're slipping him from your pocket."

Damn. He thought he'd been sneaky with those.

"All right," he gives in with an exaggerated huff of disappointment. "Let me just get Mister Squeaky."

The toy is in his bedroom, just where the leash was. He heads for the kitchen instead.

Beckett doesn't miss it. "Castle, you're stalling," she calls out when he hasn't returned within a minute.

Yes. "No. I just- I can't find his toy."

Even though she's hidden behind one of the support beams, he knows she's rolling her eyes. "He'll be fine without it."

"But-"

"He's a _dog_."

"You don't understand. _Man's_ best friend, after all," Castle argues as he shuffles back to where Beckett stands.

Another glare. Uh-oh. "Stop being a child," she scolds him.

"I'm going to miss him."

"You're being ridiculous." Eye roll. "It's a dog, not a baby."

Castle quirks one eyebrow at that. "A baby?" he sings out, perhaps a little too amused for the innocent comment she meant it to be.

"I- you know what I mean," she stammers, the growl to her voice lost as she startles.

He can't help but grin as the blush creeps up her neck to spread across her cheeks for the second time tonight. And when the image of Beckett arriving on his doorstep with arms open for not a dog but instead their baby suddenly floods his mind, Castle leans in close. Too close, all innocence lost as his breath fans hot across her lips.

"Trust me when I say that if we had a child, there would never be any shared custody involved," he whispers low.

And then he doesn't know what he's doing, but all he can think about is their kiss a little over a year ago, and how right now he wants to just dive in and close his lips over hers, because, well- it worked the first time, didn't it? That element of surprise, catching the remarkable Katherine Beckett completely off guard. It left her fingers clutching onto him desperately as she moaned – _moaned_ – into his mouth.

So when her breath catches in an almost inaudible gasp and her eyes slip to his lips, his hands rise of their own volition to cup either cheek tenderly. Her eyes flutter shut as his thumb brushes tenderly across her smooth skin, her head ducking slightly in an act of shyness rather than one telling him to stop.

So he doesn't. Just gently tilts her head back and slants his lips across hers.

It's slow at first, a little shy. Something sweet that soon grows into playful, then fervent.

Tentative fingers clutch at the lapels on his jacket, trailing up and down the fabric before slipping underneath. Nails rake across his chest, bold in their exploration, dipping lower, hooking in the waistband of his slacks.

He startles. "Kate-"

Those full, pink lips cover his, silencing him, drawing him backward.

The dam is broken, Mister Squeaky long forgotten and Royal left to entertain himself as they stumble toward his bedroom.

* * *

Castle is pulled from sleep against his will the next morning, forehead burning up, a stuffy heat wrapping itself around his skin. It's hot. Too hot, considering it's the middle of January. Was it cold last night? Hm. He can't quite recall, but he's sure it wasn't so cold it warranted the thermostat to be turned this high.

Still, he's sure he'll manage to find it in him to ignore whatever has brought on this sudden heatwave and put off getting up. There's little light filtering through the blinds, though the traffic noise outside his window alerts him the rest of the city has already woken. But it's the weekend and Alexis is away, no one to pester him to start the day. And even though they picked up a case, he's sure he can manage to catch a few more _z_'s.

Oh. The case.

The dog. Royal.

Beckett.

His eyes fly open, mouth that'd already fallen open while he'd slept now parting into a small _o_ with surprise.

Beckett. She's here. She's his source of warmth, the reason his skin is flushed red and there's a bead of sweat falling between his shoulder blades.

But- yeah. He's not going to complain about this. Maybe the heat isn't so bad. It _is_ the middle of winter, after all. The light blanket of snow that's covering the city is surely more enjoyable when he has _Kate_ in his bed to, well- warm him up.

So with a content sigh on his lips Castle slides a little closer, buries his face in the silky curls tumbling over his pillow. He drops one kiss to the bare skin of her exposed shoulder, curls one arm around her slender waist, fingertips trailing slowly across her smooth skin just because he can.

But then an almost inaudible grown vibrates in Beckett's throat and she tries to scoot away. "Too hot," she mumbles on a soft breath.

Castle extends one arm and throws back his duvet, letting the trapped warmth escape into the cooler apartment air surrounding them. Satisfied, he rolls to lay flush against her. She shifts again.

"No. You. Too hot."

Him? "Me?"

The only agreement she gives is a soft hum.

"_I_ am not the problem," he can't help but argue. "Of the two of us, _you_ are the radiator."

It earns him a swift elbow to his ribs.

"Ow, Kate."

"Quit the whining. Not attractive." She's a little more awake now, one eye slitting open to glare at him. It might work if she weren't naked in his bed.

Still, Castle pouts. "At least kiss it better?"

There's a slyness that spreads across her features as she tugs her lower lip between her front teeth, a flirtatious batter of her eyelids as she peers up from underneath thick lashes. The tips of her fingers slide to his chest, so smooth and delicate in their touch as they dip lower, lower, then-

"Woof!"

Castle has barely turned his head before the too happy figure of Royal the dog bounds excitedly through his room and leaps onto the centre of the bed. With an easy roll and flop he wedges himself between them, tail wagging happily as he pants with that mischievous, almost proud grin on his face.

Thwarted by a dog. That's a new one.

By the time he recovers from the sudden interruption, Beckett is already rolling away slightly to give Royal a little more room as he stretches his paws. Fingernails scratch at the back of his neck, the Retriever pants happily as he looks up at her with those adoring puppy-dog playful eyes.

"He likes you," Castle comments lightly.

She hums.

"You'll have to come over tonight so he can see you again."

To that, she pauses, then arches one eyebrow at him. "Come here? Why can't Royal stay with me like he was _supposed _to last night?"

Castle sidesteps her accusation with a shrug. "He likes it here."

Right on cue, Royal loses interest and jumps off the bed. Beckett chuckles easily. "Likes it here, hey? Seems pretty eager to leave, to me."

There's a slight pout on his lips at the poorly timed rejection, but Castle doesn't back down. "But Alexis is away for the weekend," he half-whines. "And if you take Royal too? I'll be all alone."

She gives a slow shake of her head. No dice. "Nuh-uh. Not happening. We had a deal, and _you_ are going to live up to it."

He tries a different approach then, sliding across the sheets, slinking an arm low around her waist as his lips dip to her neck. "Well, I'm sure I could be persuaded to stay at yours instead."


	17. 2x05 When the Bough Breaks

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**2x05 When the Bough Breaks**

* * *

_What if… Castle had taken the offer to write a certain British secret agent?_

* * *

It doesn't take long to doll herself up for Castle's book launch. A quick shower to freshen up, a dab of foundation, a swish of mascara. Before she knows it, she's already lining up her heels and slipping into that skin-tight blue dress that was so far past her price range.

(She hasn't been mentally selecting her outfit all day. She hasn't.)

There's a confidence brewing in her heart when the cab pulls up to the party. It sparkles through her veins, burning as it ignites to fuel her forward. She knows how good her legs look in this dress, stretching on for miles, all tanned and toned, accentuated even further by those four-inch heels. She keeps that thought at the forefront of her mind as she wanders inside. It's not enough. When she crosses that threshold, it's all she can do to keep her posture straight, all that earlier confidence slipping from her grasp.

Photographers everywhere.

Flashes blinding.

Screams for _Nikki Heat_.

Beckett swallows hard and ducks her head, tries to subtly slide through the sea of press crowding around her. She's not overwhelmed. She's not.

But it is the first time she realises just how different their worlds are.

* * *

With almost a smirk on his face, Montgomery directs her toward the tower of novels displayed boldly in the centre of the room. She's a little hesitant in her step and keeps a cautious eye on the print, almost sizing it up as she approaches. The finger that's been fiddling with the zipper of her clutch relinquishes its grip when she finally reaches for a copy of Heat Wave.

She traces a finger along the length of the spine before flipping the book over in her hand. As she takes a long moment to study the praise on the back, there's a hint of a smile that spills onto her lips. She can't help it. This is Richard Castle. Flamboyant personality aside, he's an incredible author.

And he based a novel on her.

With her lower lip drawn back tentatively between her teeth, Beckett spiders her fingers across the top ledge of the cover. One nail digs between the pages near the front, her finger wedges in the crack, the book flips open, and -

Oh. Wow.

_To the extraordinary KB and all my friends at the 12th._

Her heart stills in her chest as she reads the words over. They leave her a little breathless, mind whirling happily at this different side of him.

And then his voice is in her ear, all low and _hot_. "Hey."

She startles and whips around, finds his face just inches from hers. A heat prickles up her neck, tinges her cheekbones with the faintest of pinks. He just caught her staring at the dedication with a smile hinting on her lips.

"Hey." At least her voice doesn't squeak. "I – " She lets out a breath of awkward laughter. "I was just – the, uh, the dedication. Wow. Thank you."

"I meant it. You are extraordinary." He shrugs it off as if its no big deal.

To her, it means the world.

There's nothing but a deep sincerity in his voice, the smile glittering across his lips the same. The look that sparkles in his eyes just – oh. It stops her heart again, burns across her skin, a fiery mix of tender and passionate that's so inappropriate for this public setting but she just can't look away.

"Listen," he begins. "I was thinking - "

The breath catches in her throat, lips parting in slight suspense.

" - What if the wife got onto the affair?"

Her heart sinks lower in her stomach than she'd ever admit.

Ah. The case.

Right.

* * *

"So," she closes the subject of the case. "Any word on a certain British secret agent who shall not be named?"

He shoots an almost mischievous grin her way and presses a secretive finger to his lips. "I got the official offer."

Oh. "Wow. Congratulations," she offers him.

"I haven't accepted it yet," he throws out quickly.

"But you're going to, aren't you?"

He pauses, gaze intense as he takes her in. "You think I should?"

She shrugs as if it's no big deal. "Yeah. I mean – is there a reason why you wouldn't?"

And then her cheeks are cupped gently between his warm palms, and he's kissing her.

* * *

Her heart stops.

She doesn't break the kiss.

Neither does he.

At least, not until the shouting drums loud and the flashes blind her even through closed eyes. He rips away from her all too suddenly, startling just the same as she does, her heart pounding hard against the inside of her ribcage as a panic tears through. There's no explanation before he's snaking an insistent hand around her waist and guiding her toward the back exit, his one open palm her only protection against the suddenness of this confronting situation.

It's not until they fly out through the kitchen and spill into the alleyway does he turn to her. "Beckett, I - "

The sound of her name shatters her daze. "How _dare_ you pull a stunt like that." She jabs a hard finger into his chest for good measure. He takes a step backward. She takes one forward. "In front of all those photographers? In front of the boys? _Montgomery_?"

This time when she spits out her words at him, he stands his ground, one cocky eyebrow rising high on his forehead. "Why are you so sure it was a stunt?"

Beckett falters. "I - " She has no response.

She sees the sigh swell in his chest, but he doesn't bow his head. "I can't walk away from this offer. James Bond - he's the reason I became a writer."

She bites down hard on her lower lip, eyes slipping away from his. "I'm not asking you to reject it, Castle."

When he speaks again, his voice is low and smooth like satin, so hard to resist. "I may have chosen James Bond over Nikki Heat, but that doesn't mean I'm choosing him over you."

And then his hand is cradling the back of her head and he's kissing her all over again.

She can't help but sigh into his mouth, already too far gone to even care. One hand twines gently through her hair, the other sweeping along her collarbone, tracing delicately down her side, the broad palm that lands at her waist so hot as his fingers fan outward. They dance around to the small of her back and she can almost feel each whorl on his fingertips as they dig deep into her skin. He tugs her closer and she's drawn in all too easily, one hand rising to his chest so she doesn't stumble, the other trapped between the heat of their bodies.

Desperate nails scratch along his chest before her fingers clutch at fistfuls of his crisp suit. Her head falls to the side and her mouth parts on the vibration of a moan and she drinks him in and – oh. _God_. Kissing him is just so goddamn _good_. And his hands – they don't stop moving, every inch of her skin buzzing underneath his searing touch. It's all too much and not enough and –

He snaps back, startled. It takes a moment of crushing rejection until the blast of a car horn finally booms loud against her eardrum.

Fuck.

Still, he doesn't move away, his body pressing hot against the length of hers. She blinks, a little dazed, because they're in this less than romantic alleyway and Richard Castle just kissed her senseless. But when his eyes flick down to her parted lips and he moves to seal the gap, she twists her head out of his reach.

They can't.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Castle." Sadness and a little longing lace her soft voice as she gives the flimsy explanation. One hand swats at his forearm in a weak attempt to back up her words and push him away. He catches it, thumb circling across her skin tenderly.

"Who says we can't finish this?"

She cowardly ducks her head and says nothing.

"We can finish this." His voice is a low plea, but it's strong and clear just the same. "Beckett, just - give us a chance. We would be great."

Everything he's saying – everything he's asking of her – clenches violently in her heart, a trembling mix of longing and apprehension.

"Kate."

The tender whisper of her name is too much.

Her head is telling her not to fall. That they're so different it will never work. That he's made his choice.

But her heart is screaming otherwise.

* * *

It's a year later when Beckett walks into her local bookstore and sees his name plastered everywhere, bold in its advertisement for his latest novel that has nothing to do with Nikki Heat. She bites down on her lower lip as she approaches the table with a step that's a little hesitant. One finger stretches out, traces across the hard cover of the novel as she studies the print.

James Bond.

A warm hand settles itself on her waist, draws her attention around as fingers squeeze gently. She settles against his side as his lips find her ear. "You okay?"

She nods in response to his murmur and flicks her hazel eyes up to meet the shining blue pair waiting patiently on her. "Yeah." His hand drops from her waist as she turns from the table, and she takes it in one of hers instead. "Come on. Let's find this book for Alexis."

Castle follows her close as she leads them toward the back of the store, his presence reassuring as it keeps her grounded in this moment.

She doesn't need Nikki Heat.

She just needs him.


	18. 4x01 Rise

Been a while, hasn't it? Sorry about that.

Just going to start this one off by saying thank you for everyone who has messaged me with prompts for this episode (and Knockout, too – they usually go together). That being said, this idea isn't one anyone has requested, but it's something I can't remember seeing before and it's been stuck in my mind. Enjoy.

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**4x01 Rise **

* * *

_What if… Beckett had been asleep when Castle visited her in hospital?_

* * *

Castle shoots up straight, startled. A little disoriented. He blinks twice to fight the haze of sleep and scans the room. Desks lined neatly in a row, uniforms bustling. The precinct? Hm. He twists in his seat, searches for Beckett. Her desk is empty.

Oh. Right.

It's a tight devastation for a moment when he remembers what happened, why Beckett isn't here. He swallows it down to sink heavy in his stomach and reaches for the ringing phone that woke him. "Castle."

As the voice sounds in his ear, the muscles lining his ribcage finally begin to relax from where they've been tense for days.

He can finally see Beckett.

* * *

He can't jump into a taxi soon enough and all but trips back onto the sidewalk once he's slipped the driver a handful of bills. Figure scattered as he spills into the waiting room, he runs two sweaty palms down the legs of his pants. Ugh. He raises one arm to jab the call button for the elevator and misses, pain reverberating through his thumb as it jams into the wall. He clenches his jaw and tries again, managing to hit the button this time around. The car already at ground level, the orange light above the doors are already flashing when the showy display in the gift shop window catches his eye. Flowers. Right. Good idea.

He backtracks and ducks into the shop off the waiting room, his eyes tripping over the assortment of over-priced gifts. Bears. Balloons. Flowers. Cards that swirl _congratulations _and others a deep _I'm sorry_. It's a long few minutes and a helpful tap on the shoulder by the grey-haired saleswoman later when finally settles on an orange and green bouquet at the back. The square vase tucked under the wing of his left arm, he makes another attempt at the elevator. The sliding doors part immediately and he jumps in, hits the red _three_, and moves to the back of the car. And when the metal doors shut together to encase him in the empty square, there's nothing stopping him from letting his head fall backward and his eyes slip shut against the world.

One breath in, and out. Two. Three before his heartbeat begins to slow.

Yeah. He's nervous. Because the last time he saw this woman, she had a bullet in her chest and there was nothing he could do.

And he told her he loved her.

Yeah. That, too.

The elevator dings and the doors part with a whoosh. His chest expands on a deep breath before he finally gathers himself enough to step out and onto the solid ground. There's a bright white sign on the wall in front of him that gives directions to each room but it isn't needed. The two guards stationed down the hall signal exactly where she is.

He heads for the room and takes a step too far, checks his hair in the mirror for another moment to smooth over the terrified lines of his face. He reaches for the handle, pauses for one last second.

Beckett. Right. No backing out.

One last breath and he grips the metal and tugs, takes two steps forward –

And stops.

His heart drops.

She's fast asleep, with another man beside her bed.

"Josh." The doctor's name strikes bitter on his tongue even as he gives a civil nod. As if the last time they saw each other, they weren't throwing punches in the hallways of this hospital.

Josh returns the gesture and with an awkward glance and rises. "Drugs shouldn't hold in her system much longer. She should wake soon," he tells Castle. "You stay. I'll stop by later, see how she's doing."

"No," he forces politely from his mouth. "I just – came to drop these off." The flowers in his hands suddenly weigh a tonne.

Still, Josh shakes his head. "I should go." The doctor steals a fake glance down at his watch. "Rounds," he throws out an explanation.

This time, Castle keeps his mouth shut, waits it out with a clenching heart as Josh drops a kiss to Beckett's forehead. The tension rolls off in waves as the doctor moves around him but the door shuts in his wake with nothing more than a soft snick. Josh gone, he turns to Beckett, and stills.

She lays asleep, undisturbed by the exchange. Inside his chest, his heart seizes tight and rises high to choke in this throat as his eyes dance over her too-thin frame swamped by the oversized hospital gown. Everything about this right now – her pale, sunken face, her lifeless body – it all takes him back to the ambulance, to the screeching sirens and Lanie's panicked shouts as her heart stopped.

It hits low in his gut, hard. He keels over, trembling hands reaching for purchase on the frame of her bed because – _God_. Her heart had stopped.

She had died.

Stomach rolling with unease he drags desperate eyes up the length of her bed, clings to the shallow rise of her chest, the faintest tinge of pink that sits high on her cheekbones. Mind dizzy, he fixates on the steady beeping that counts her heartbeat, lets it echo loud in a reminder that she's here.

She's here.

Whatever happens, at least she's here.

* * *

He's taken up post beside her bed now, his blue eyes watchful as they keep guard over her. Hands that have finally stopped shaking reach for the plastic cup of water a nurse had brought for him as she'd helped his wrecked figure into a seat. Now, he fights off the acid climbing his throat, a flick of his wrist to down the last of the cool liquid. Doesn't help.

Gaze falling back over Beckett's still figure, he sighs. He'd been told she was awake, up for visitors. She's not. The nurse has had to reassure him three times it's just the medication. He doesn't want to bother the poor woman again for another update. It's just – she looks so cold. Alone.

He doesn't want her to be alone.

Before it crosses his mind that he shouldn't, he flexes the tips of his fingers and reaches for her hand. They dance a barely-there rhythm over her knuckles before unconsciously slipping around to her pulse.

It's all so sudden. Her entire body shoots up on a gasp, eyes wide open and flashing with a hard panic. He stumbles backward, the legs of his seat hissing hard against the linoleum floor. But he doesn't care about that. No. Not when Beckett's mouth is parted on a silent scream as her eyes dart around the room like a caged wild animal.

"Beckett?" he rasps.

She flinches away at the sound of her name, curling in on herself, a low sound of pain tearing from her throat.

"Kate."

She doesn't hear him. He's not even sure she's fully awake, rather trapped in a half-aware state as she's pulled from a too-vivid nightmare. But she's clawing fiercely at her chest, at the spot where he knows the bullet pierced her skin, and damn it if she isn't going to tear her chest open. All pretence of remaining calm scatters as he jumps up and snatches at her wrists, his grip iron as he holds them steady.

"Kate," he calls desperately. "Kate, wake up."

His name chokes in her throat. "Castle - "

The nurse pushes him aside too swiftly, replaces his grip with her own. From where he stumbles he remains frozen, useless, on the sidelines as always.

All he wanted was to help her and now she's lying in hospital with a bullet hole in her chest and the memory of the rifle crack terrifying in her mind.

* * *

When the nurse that brought him the cup of water comes to give him the all clear, Castle re-enters the room almost cautiously, each step measured. She's sitting upright but her eyelids are closed, her hands balled into stubborn fists at her sides. He takes care to shut the door with a click behind him and scuff his foot so he doesn't startle her.

At the sound, her eyes crack open. They don't meet his. "What are you doing here, Castle?" There's something of shame that laces her low voice, tears raw at his heart, leaves his answer coming all too honest.

"I wanted to see whether you were all right."

The muscles along her jaw tighten. "Fine."

He's never been less convinced.

"Does Josh know about the nightmares?"

That startles her. Dark eyes snap up, finally catching his. His core aches at all the pain he finds in their hollow depths.

"First one?" he offers an answer.

She's stubbornly silent for a moment, then gives a slow shake of her head. "No," she admits quietly, eyes slipping to her lap. "Not the first."

He shuffles closer, takes up the seat beside her bed once again as she draws in a shallow breath.

"Every time I close my eyes, I'm back there. In the hangar, in - "

Oh.

"In the graveyard," he finishes softly.

It's all written across her face.

She remembers everything.

"I'm still with Josh, Castle." He swears he can hear more than a hint of regret in her apology.

Pain. "I understand."

She shakes her head. "No, Castle. I don't think you do," she whispers. "Can you just – give me time?" she pleads soft. "To heal. To be – whole again?"

Oh.

Yes. "Of course."

He feels the tension pressing on his shoulders already lifting and - God. The urge to kiss her comes sudden and so completely overwhelming. But -

No. Time. That's what she needs. Just a bit of time to get her footing again and then –

Yeah. Okay.

Time.

Her eyelids begin to droop then, lashes moving slow as she blinks heavy. "You should rest," he tells her, already rising to his feet. "Talk tomorrow?"

For the first time since the gunshot rang, Castle watches her face light up, and those pale pink lips curl into a promising smile. "Tomorrow."


	19. 4x17 Once Upon a Crime

Technically set outside the boundaries of what we saw in the episode, but - I love Martha.

* * *

**WHAT IF?**

* * *

**4x17 Once Upon a Crime**

* * *

_What if… Martha had given a certain writer and detective a moment alone?_

* * *

They make it just in time to her one-woman show, her son wandering into the study when Alexis ushers him. There's a twinkle in his eyes that lets her know just who he's brought with him tonight (and she _so_ glad Katherine Beckett could make it), but she doesn't tease him. Her focus holds steady on the performance she's about to give. So Martha points to the still loose ties on her costume that she just can't quite get right and he's just finishing the bow when that far-away look creeps onto his face because everything has fallen into place.

There's an apology in his eyes as he excuses himself, a half-genuine promise he'll tell Beckett his theory and then stay for the show, but she shoos him away. No point in trying to persuade either of them to stay. No. Beckett has a murderer to arrest. Her boy will follow that girl wherever she goes.

She runs flat palms down the white apron to smooth over the wrinkles and lifts her head of red hair confidently. The show must go on.

* * *

The two partners in crime wander through the front door (looking every bit the couple, she notes) just an hour after the earlier crowd has left. From where she peeks around the edge of the study door, she watches her son guide the detective to the lounge. She seats while he grabs two glasses of fresh champagne, then he settles comfortably beside her. They share a look, toast, and Martha can't help but think they _almost_ –

But then Alexis is dimming the lights and scuttling to her seat. Her granddaughter's presence dampens the electric tension just a little but the detective doesn't shift away.

No.

If anything, Beckett scoots a little closer.

* * *

Martha's heart skips with that motherly love every time Kate glances back at Richard from where she's perched on the edge of her seat. His eyes are always waiting for hers, careful and anticipative as they study her every curve and every twitch of her smile. They're both so open with each other tonight and she doesn't know what's changed. She just knows she loves it. Yes. Because even in the dim lights the unrestrained love reflects bright sparkles in both their eyes, so free and all for each other.

She almost stumbles when she sees Kate take her son's hand. Those slender fingers wrap around Richard's so easily, no second-guessing. It seems almost something of second-nature when the detective's attention immediately swivels back to the performance. Richard isn't drawn away quite so easily, his eyes tracing across Kate Beckett's face, down to their linked hands, and back again.

She _does_ stumble when Kate doesn't let go, her voice cutting out mid-word. She only just manages to catch herself again before anyone comments and she's forced to break character. That would ruin the mood, and she definitely doesn't want that.

And when Richard doesn't pay a single second of attention more to her performance, she doesn't even care, because her son is so in love with this woman who radiates with it just the same.

* * *

She finishes with a dramatic bow, soaks in the round of applause that bounces off the high ceilings of the loft. Eyes every observant, she can't help but note how Kate's fingers slip a little too slowly from around her son's, one hesitant finger at a time releasing its grip, almost reluctant to let go. The grin that plays on either edge of her lips is easily transformed, masked as a beaming appreciation.

When they both move to rise and help clean up she waves them off, insists they enjoy the evening because her heart is swelling at the sight of them.

"Please. Relax. I'll move everything back in the morning."

Richard arches a disbelieving eyebrow. "You mean I'll move everything back in the morning."

Martha shoots her son a glare. "Oh, be quiet." Her tone is all teasing, but a knowing smile slips free on both their faces when he mimes zipping his lips shut. "Fine. Let me get everything from your study first and then I'll fix up the living room."

It doesn't take long to collect her things – last-minute hairspray, a necklace she decided against at the last minute, a couple of loose pages of notes about her performance. Through the open spaces in the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, the sounds of the loft filter through. The click of the door as Alexis locks up, the goodnight the young girl calls out to her father, the soft notes of the conversation Richard and Kate hold.

"She exaggerated everything," she hears Richard whine low.

"Artistic license?" Kate offers lightly.

"Blatant exaggeration."

"It was good."

"I'm not saying it wasn't. I'm saying it wasn't true."

Kate scoffs.

"Oh, what? You disagree?"

There's a pause. "I'm just saying, it's a bit hypocritical of you - "

Her son groans. "Not Nikki again?"

"I don't think you realised just how much flack I've copped over it.

"That was all about - "

"What? Telling a good story? Just like your mother was doing?"

There's another sigh. "It's different."

"How?"

A pause, then, "People will believe what she's saying is true?" Martha almost snorts at the way Richard's defence comes out as a question.

"And you don't think people believe what you've written about me?" Kate Beckett is surely rolling her eyes right now. "I mean, do you even realise how many people think I've slept with you?"

And then silence.

Oh, dear.

Martha keeps still as she waits for a response but none comes. In the study she hesitates, not wanting to interrupt, but – yeah. She's a little nosy, and wants to know what's going on.

Still, she reins in the urge to spy and gives them a few minutes, instead heading for the bathroom to start detangling her hair. When she returns, the silence still hangs in the air. Surely Kate hasn't slipped out already?

Martha creeps up to the bookshelf and bends her knees just a little, trying to surreptitiously scan the room without being seen. It's no good; she can't see the sofa from here, the wide support beam in the way now it's backed up against the wall for space. But surely if they were still arguing, she'd hear it?

It's just another two steps to the already open doorway and another two past that. She's just about to open her mouth and call out for them when -

Oh.

She spots them. Still on the couch. But now -

They're kissing.

Martha freezes awkwardly where she stands. She can't remain standing in the centre of the living room. No. She definitely doesn't want to do that. But a dash to the staircase means the echoing click of her heels on the hardwood floors, something that will surely interrupt the moment. And – no. She can't do that either. The kiss is so innocent, so sweet and slow. Almost a little hesitant but perhaps the start of something. Her heart swells against her ribcage. She can only hope. She just wants the best for her son.

She backs into the study on the toes of her heels, kicks them off quietly and bends to carry them. On bare feet she takes off again, each step she takes soft, careful. She makes it to the staircase, then up one step, two, three, avoiding the fourth that creaks and leaping straight to the fifth. There she pauses, unable to help herself from stealing one last glance.

Yes. They're still sharing the kiss, pure and tender. Soft. Loving. Both her son's hands cup Kate's cheeks gently, the detective's hands clutching at Richard's elbows as if he's caught her off guard. But she hasn't pulled away. Rather, she's angled toward him, opened herself to his embrace. That must be a good sign.

So Martha turns and disappears up the last of the stairs, and hopes Kate Beckett won't break her son's heart.

* * *

The redhead wakes early the following morning, the sound of heavy Manhattan traffic pulling her from her sleep. She presses her cheek into the feathery pillow and tries to slip under once again but her mind isn't having any of it. The sigh is heavy in her chest. If she's up at this hour, coffee is a necessity.

She dons a long robe and knots the sash at her hip. For late February it's still surprisingly icy and so the hardwood floors nip at the soles of her bare feet. She slips them into a pair of fuzzy slippers and trudges with bleary-eyes downstairs.

One foot hits the ground floor when she pauses.

There, thrown over the arm of the couch, is the deep grey wool of Kate Beckett's coat. And – ah. Yes. Those gorgeous four-inch heels that always leave feelings of envy still lay toed off at the end of the couch from the night before.

Martha smiles to herself and turns to move up the staircase she just came down.

She'll give the kids some privacy.

* * *

**A/N:** I don't know how many more of these there will be, if any. The idea was so much fun at first, but now I feel like every man and his dog is writing these 'what could have happened' scenarios. It's – natural, I guess. We've reached the point in the show where almost everything has been filled in – they're together, the topic of marriage has been thrown out there - and so without the possibility of 'will they get together' to fill in, we're either going back in time or exploring AUs. And it was great for a while, but it's starting to lose my interest now.

But who knows. Maybe this is just exam stress talking. Still, I feel like I should warn you this could possibly be the last, and thank you for the support you have given this. I appreciate it all.


End file.
